


Beyond Unreasonable

by Cheri_Goodman



Series: The Reason Series [2]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Book: Eclipse, Book: New Moon, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mates, Protective Edward Cullen, Protectiveness, Romance, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 179,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheri_Goodman/pseuds/Cheri_Goodman
Summary: An old enemy goes after revenge by hurting Edward's mate — and disguises himself as Edward when he does it. He said he would protect Bella from anything. But how can he protect her when the enemy is himself?  (Sequel to Past the Edge of Reason)
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Series: The Reason Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083089
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue - Vision

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to "Past the Edge of Reason" (PTEOR). PTEOR covered the time period of the original Twilight and can stand alone. It involved a very protective Edward kidnapping Bella to protect her from James in Twilight. This sequel covers the New Moon and Eclipse time period with a new threat to Bella. While it references some events in PTEOR, it can also be read alone.
> 
> Please note there is a very strong CONTENT WARNING for this story! Sexual assault and attempted rape are a central theme to the story, as well as two characters picking their way through the aftermath of an emotionally messy situation. Lots of hurt/comfort and lots of darkness, building back toward an eventual HEA.

Chapter 1

Three words.

Despair. Rage. Vengeance.

They were the sum total of all Victoria cared about since the day James was taken from her. By _him_.

Edward Cullen. Or Edward _Masen,_ as she now knew his human name to be.

She had learned other things about him, too. Causing him pain had become the sole reason for her existence. And if her mate had taught her one thing, it was that _knowing_ your enemy was the key to defeating him.

She had all of eternity in front of her — an eternity that was supposed to have been spent with James. She could afford to be patient.

That was why she had visited every location she could dig up that the Cullen family had ever lived, seeking out any other vampire who had ever had dealings with them. It was why she was now in Chicago, the city of Edward Masen's human birth. She'd been working backwards.

Some of those vampires, particularly the yellow-eyed ones in Alaska, would undoubtedly contact the Cullens to warn them she was digging around.

Good. Let them. She'd learned enough to know that Edward and the psychic female in his coven would see her coming, regardless. So let the bastard squirm in the meantime, knowing that retribution was coming for his precious Bella.

That was the key to hurting him, of course. Isabella Marie Swan. His mate. The pale, seemingly insignificant human girl who was the focal point of all his attention. Killing _her,_ slowly and painfully, was the fastest way to destroy Edward Cullen.

But she still needed an ally if she was going to get around his coven...an entire _coven_ , all dedicated to protecting one human. The Cullens, with their unnatural yellow eyes and their pacifist lifestyle. Utterly revolting. But surely, even Edward must have an enemy out there somewhere, someone other than her who wanted him to _hurt_.

If she couldn't find one, she'd _create_ one. She'd create an entire army of them.

But as fate would have it, no sooner than she was out of Chicago and back into the wild, in the seclusion of the closest forest, an ally found her.

"You've been asking around about Edward Cullen."

Victoria hissed, spinning around to look up into blood-red eyes. Evasion was her gift. It wasn't typical for someone to sneak up on her. "Who the hell are you?"

The tall, slender but muscular, dark-haired vampire took a step closer. Victoria took one in the opposite direction. It had been some time since the mere presence of another vampire made her want to bolt. There was an inherent cruelty in this one that had her escape senses tingling. He towered over her.

"You can call me Albert. And to answer your question, I'm the only living being who hates that son of a bitch as much as you do."

Victoria bared her teeth and snapped, surging toward him instead of away. Her instincts were also screaming that aggression was her best defense with this one. "I doubt that. What'd he do to you?"

Albert grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into a tree. He was strong. Stronger than James. Unquestionably stronger than her. Something curled in her gut, something violent and feral.

"I'm the last human that Edward Cullen killed," Albert told Victoria, grabbing her by the throat with one hand.

She curled her fingers around his throat right back and snarled. "You don't look dead to me."

His eyes turned even colder, if possible, with a slow, burning rage. "Bastard didn't finish the job — somebody got too close. He hid my body and left me for dead. Left behind barely enough of his venom and my blood to start the change. I was in hell for nine days before I woke up as this _._ By then, he'd returned to his _coven_."

Victoria violently pushed Albert off her, pushing him back into another tree and stalking toward him. She felt more alive than she'd felt since Edward destroyed James. This was promising.

"I've done my research," she replied, her lips turning up slightly. "Edward Cullen had a _type_. He only killed rapists, murderers."

Albert's grin was lecherous, evil. "He missed one."

_Yes_ , Victoria smiled, _v_ _ery promising._

"He killed my mate," she purred. "I plan to kill his — a human girl. But his entire coven protects her."

His cruel grin grew, showing his teeth. "Just kill her? Not very inventive, love. I think we can help each other, you and I."

Victoria jutted her chin out. His sadism didn't put her off. It _energized_ her. "What makes you think I need you? What can you do that I can't?"

He grabbed her by the wrists and yanked her toward him. She let him, his violence a natural aphrodisiac to her.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

Before her eyes, his features swam, changing, the red in his cruel eyes transforming to a warm, kind amber.

It was all she could do not to bare her teeth and jerk her wrists back from him. The vampire standing in front of her was now a perfect replica of Edward Cullen. Down to the shift in scent that suddenly assaulted her senses, a fog that was barely visible breathing out from his nostrils.

"Oh," she breathed, fascinated, staring into the face of her enemy. "But how?"

"It's my gift," the perfect image of Edward told her, even the voice a flawless imitation. He now spoke with the old-world elegance of Edward Cullen. "I was a chameleon in life, able to blend in anywhere. In this life, that ability is enhanced — a perfect blending of both physical and mental. What you're seeing is physical, a true change. What you smell and hear are simply because I will it."

He smiled a happy, crooked smile at her. "You say Edward Cullen's found a mate? I'd _love_ to meet her."

* * *

A couple thousand miles away, as Edward blindly helped Alice go absurdly overboard for a birthday party Bella was sure to hate, he believed that the most horrifying thing he had to look forward to that evening was Bella's reaction to her 18th birthday. Because no way in the world did _that_ happen without a few more arguments over his timetable for changing her and taking her to his bed.

In his mind, that timetable was graduation, college, wedding, then changing her himself when he could no longer convince either of them to delay it one more day. And then, at some point in the distant future when she was unbreakable, he had every intention of making love to her so often and so thoroughly that she'd forget he ever once left her unsatisfied. He was going to make it all up to her and then some, and he had no doubt it would all be worth the wait.

Bella's timetable, on the other hand, was...well...a little different than his. Mainly in where she thought sex should come in that lineup. And of course, whether college should be in it at all.

Actually, she would most certainly object to "wedding" too, if she'd known yet that it was on his list.

So the probability was high that they would spend the evening of her 18th birthday arguing about her being changed sooner rather than later, unless he could forestall _that_ by getting his hands and lips on her the moment he saw her. Which would, he admitted to himself with a slow-spreading grin, likely be the least difficult mission in recorded history.

That crisis averted, he would then only have to worry about possible arguments over his fast-crumbling misgivings regarding premarital relations — or vampire/human relations, in general.

Either way, arguing was likely going to be involved. That seemed to be a theme lately. And he had a pretty good idea why.

In the past few months since their ordeal with James — and ever since he had verbally claimed Bella as his mate — their relationship had only become more and more physical. He was only just barely managing to keep his hands to himself anymore, to keep his fingers on the _outside_ of her clothes and restricted to respectable areas of her body for him to be touching until he could get a ring on her finger.

Bella had never excelled at that in the first place, which did nothing to improve matters. He now spent a not inconsiderable portion of his time just trying to stay dressed and making sure Bella did the same. He also spent far more time with his tongue deeply buried in her sweet, warm mouth than he really should, at least if he valued his sanity.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd stopped her attempts to straddle his lap, though he held her _very_ carefully still when she did so...which was often. After all, he was the one who'd started it, the night he all but snapped before abruptly dragging her into his lap to inform her that she was _his_ , his mate — that as far as the vampire in him was concerned, she belonged to him and him alone for the rest of eternity, and that he wasn't inclined to let her go. Ever.

And that had been about thirty seconds before he had her on her back beneath him, with her leg hitched securely up over his hip, intentionally pressing himself against her and asking if she felt what she did to him.

So yeah, he could hardly take the moral high ground on that one anymore. Not to mention that Bella, apparently, really _liked_ feeling exactly what she did to him. If he said he was anything other than thoroughly and somewhat smugly delighted by that fact, he'd be lying. Although if he had any self-preservation instincts whatsoever, he mused, he should probably be at least slightly concerned that the woman he eventually planned to turn into a super-powerful newborn clearly enjoyed torturing him.

But for the time being, nothing else had changed, least of all the fact that he still risked killing her if he went too far. So when he inevitably still had to stop them both, it left Bella more frustrated every time he put the brakes on.

It had made him start thinking toward the future. This was not a sustainable situation. He wasn't so naive as to believe that it was. The threat of her hormones causing her to become bored with him felt very real, the horrifying prospect that her eye could be caught by someone flesh and blood, someone who could satisfy _all_ of her needs.

If it was only about _his_ virtue and _his_ soul, rather than hers as well, he'd have just made his life easier and given in on the sex part a long time ago. Maybe not in exactly the way Bella thought, because _that_ wasn't happening while she was still human, period, no matter how much he might wish otherwise.

But there were certainly other ways he was all too aware of, thank you very much, that he could take the edge off for her in the meantime. Repeatedly.

He'd been to medical school, more than once. He'd spent decades in a house with _Emmett,_ for God's sake. There were safer ways to satisfy her, ones that didn't risk him ripping her in half when she inevitably found a way to push him _straight_ over the edge.

No, knowledge definitely wasn't his problem.

But not dwelling on that knowledge 24/7, now that he'd let himself entertain the idea, however so briefly? Now, that was a different matter entirely. One that became more difficult by the day.

And he knew the very moment when it had started.

Bella's eager reaction to the idea of being his mate — and of him being hers — had set him on _fire_. The flames of his transition to vampiredom seemed trite by comparison.

He'd initially resisted saying the word to her, no matter how irresistible the burning urge to stake his claim in some way, in _any_ way. Screaming and running were tame compared to what he had expected from her if he tried to explain that side of his nature.

What he hadn't known was that Carlisle had already outed him to Bella about that, without ever bothering to mention that fact to him, mentally or verbally. In fact, he was pretty sure Carlisle had hidden the memory of that conversation from him intentionally.

_T_ _hanks for that,_ _Dad_ , he thought, wryly.

And _that_ had led to Bella blindsiding him with it in her bed one night, a night when he was already dangerously on edge from a week of her not reaching out to touch him even once. If she'd been trying to drive him mad that week, terrified that he was losing her and not having a clue why, she'd very nearly succeeded. He'd been on a hairpin trigger for days, unabashedly prepared to grab her at a moment's notice if she'd tried to bolt.

He'd also spent a fair amount of time that week fusing his mouth to hers with an urgent intensity that should have scared the hell out of her. It had certainly scared the hell out of _him,_ because despite her responsiveness to his touch, at least so long as he was the one to initiate it, she kept pulling away from him first. His control was shot by the first night of that. If she hadn't been the one putting a stop to things, she might have got everything she wanted sooner than she thought.

He would never, not for the remainder of eternity, forget what it did to him — mentally, emotionally, and _physically_ — the moment he figured out what had Bella so upset, that he wasn't losing her after all. That she needed to hear him claim her.

The thought had truly never occurred to him that she would _want_ to be a possessive vampire's mate, that she could accept that side of him so easily. Other than his initial phase of mangling trees in the forest, trying to convince her of what a scary, scary monster he was, he'd been resigned to keeping their relationship just as human as he could manage, denying his other side and all the unspoken desires that went along with it.

But she didn't just accept it. She embraced it, her hands immediately blazing a very dangerous trail down his chest to his stomach and beyond. She'd asked if he belonged to her too.

Cue the flames. If he hadn't forced himself to flip her under him and get her hands under control at that very moment...

In short, Bella greatly underestimated his desire to give her a birthday present he _knew_ she wouldn't turn down.

He was also a little more motivated than usual to get her to accept _any_ kind of gift from him. She certainly hadn't turned down Jacob Black's idiotic dreamcatcher in the school parking lot that morning, his baser side not-so-helpfully reminded him, and his teeth clenched, his venom rising.

And that was the _other_ problem with finally letting himself think of Bella as his mate while she was still human.

The civilized, mostly human part of him — the side he desperately tried to nurture, especially when it came to Bella — had a pretty good grip on things.

People had friends. Bella had friends. One of them was a human-wolf boy with a little crush on her. But she wanted _him_ , not the pup who didn't even know he was a pup yet, so it wasn't really a big deal. He could grit his teeth and be gracious about it, congratulate himself on his decidedly modern, non-monstrous take on things.

The vampire in him, on the other hand — his very real monster — started screaming _mine_ at the top of its lungs anytime another male expressed an interest. It always had, honestly. But now that he regarded Bella as his mate, it was so much worse. The vampire in him, if allowed to go unchecked, saw only two options: rip Jacob Black's fucking head off, or better yet, grab his mate and claim her right there in front of him. _Really_ claim her this time.

Right. So wolf murder it was, then, if it came down to it. Because not even Bella and her raging teenage hormones would likely go along with the latter idea. More the pity.

And he was decorating with his sister at the moment, so he pretty much needed to think about literally _anything_ else.

Bella. Birthday. Gifts. Giving Bella gifts. He wanted to do that.

Expensive ones. Preferably ones involving large diamonds. If those diamonds somehow marked her as belonging to him, that was just fine with him too.

Okay, not helping.

Actually, he suddenly realized and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, Bella knew _exactly_ how much he wanted to give her gifts. In fact, there was a good chance he'd just nailed down Bella's seduction strategy of the evening. It wouldn't be the first of such strategies. He hoped, more than he should, that it wouldn't be the last. Masochistic lion, indeed.

But he really, really didn't want her birthday ruined by a fight. He wanted to disappoint her even less. He needed some idea how to avoid both, all while keeping both of their clothes on.

With a sigh, feeling vaguely like a perv, he scanned his sister's thoughts for at least the umpteenth time in the last hour. If Alice had already seen what would happen between the two of them that night, he had a disturbingly low number of qualms about using his sister's visions as an advance warning system for all things Bella-sexual.

It wasn't like he didn't _know_ just exactly how weird that really was. It was just that knowing _ahead_ of time what was going to happen with Bella was one of the few defenses he had left. Bella didn't know it yet, but she'd all but eradicated the rest of them.

* * *

But the vision Alice had next was not one he could have missed, even had he not chosen that very moment to go picking through her head.

It was set in motion by a decision made 2,200 miles away, by a pair of vengeful vampires somewhere outside his birthplace of Chicago. Certainly not by any decision he made. But none of them would realize that until far too late.

Alice had been carrying a ridiculously enormous and ostentatious cake on an even more enormous crystal platter — no, he didn't know what kind of cake, and no, Bella wasn't going to care — when three things happened all at once.

One. Alice gasped in horror and went completely rigid, her eyes going wide and glassy.

Two. The crystal platter shattered all over the floor.

Three. His entire future shattered right along with it.

Because through the lens of Alice's visions, what he had just watched was a violent attack, of the worst kind imaginable, being perpetrated on his intended, his mate, his Bella.

By him.

By _him._

Clothes ripping.

A punishing hand impacting her beloved face when she resisted, her disbelieving eyes wide and scared as that hand then grabbed her by the throat.

Those same hands... _his_ hands...restraining her with bruising force as she struggled desperately...futilely.

Tears rolling down her face.

Her begging him, pleading with him to stop.

And he didn't.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Decisions

Chapter 2

It was a terrifying, disorienting feeling, staring into a future that must be real but was unthinkable, seeing one's self do something that you knew — you just _knew_ — you would sooner end your own life and damn your own soul than ever consider.

Since the day he fell in love with Bella, Edward had put himself through plenty of horrifying thoughts about all of the ways it could go devastatingly wrong if he were ever to risk being intimate with her while she was still human. He thought about it every single time he was close to her, wishing a hundred times over that such concerns weren't necessary, that he wasn't a lethal killing machine who could destroy her with one careless touch.

But this...this was different. Even in the worst of those nightmare scenarios his fears had ever concocted, she had at least been a willing participant, his actions a tragic mistake — a momentary loss of control in the heat of passion. Not even once had he ever imagined a situation where he might actually _intend_ to hurt her that way, much less... _force_ her. He had no frame of reference for that type of violence when it came to Bella. None. Didn't want one.

For long moments, he could say nothing, only stare horrified into his sister's eyes, hearing the silence of her thoughts after the vision ended. Her mind was blank with shock. Distantly, he found himself appreciating that silence. It made the horror less real, somehow.

But the sound of his sister's voice shattered that illusion.

"Edward..." Alice whispered, her eyes just as wide as Bella's had been in her vision. And with that one word — his name, attached to such violent images — it was all terribly, horrifyingly real.

Alice was real. Her vision was real. This was _real_. He couldn't afford to ignore it, to pretend he never saw it. He couldn't afford to cavalierly trust in either his love for Bella or his own morality.

_Bella_ couldn't afford for him to do that.

He wanted to hide, to shut down, to have at least a few minutes to _stop_. But he knew how his sister's visions worked. If decisions didn't change, this was going to happen. So decisions were about to change. And he wasn't going to waste time about it.

"When?" he asked quietly, his body completely still, like stone. He didn't dare move from his place, afraid of where his feet might carry him. "How soon, Alice? Could you see anything?"

"I don't know." Alice's voice was still barely a whisper. She sounded apologetic, as though this was somehow _her_ fault. "She was definitely still human. I can try to..."

" _No,"_ he cut her off sharply, seeing her intent, her misguided offer to try looking closer, but it was already too late. The vision assaulted him again, and he squeezed his eyes shut against it, his hands coming up to his temples of their own volition, as though that would somehow stop it.

"Alice, _please_ ," he begged, his tone strangled, and the disturbing images abruptly disappeared. But not before he saw more than he'd seen the last time, when he'd been focused only on his own form and the face of the terrified girl beneath him. This time he had shied away from that image, focused on the periphery in a desperate attempt to escape — and had only hurt himself worse in the process.

They were in their meadow. Their goddamn _meadow._

"Sorry!" Contrition filled Alice's features as she intentionally blanked her mind. "I didn't think. I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so sorry!"

If she apologized to him again right then, he was going to put his fist through something. With effort, he brought his hands neutrally to his sides, but his fists still clenched involuntarily.

"Get the others," he ordered softly.

Alice's eyes widened even further. It took her too long to answer. "Edward, you don't... I mean, are you sure?"

He didn't know whether to be touched or horrified at what he saw in her mind, that Alice was willing to keep this entirely between the two of them, to spare him the embarrassment of the rest of their family hearing what he was apparently capable of.

That offer might have been tempting, if it was himself he was even remotely worried about. It wasn't. Any attempt at sparing himself could only put Bella in further danger. Alice's willingness to do exactly that utterly infuriated him — even though he could also see her hastily formed moral compromise to just glue herself to Bella's side until she was changed, no matter how much her presence might annoy him.

If she honestly believed for one second that he intended to allow himself another moment in Bella's presence, then she must really believe the worst of him.

Clamping down on the fury toward Alice that even he knew was misplaced, he kept his voice controlled. "They need to know, Alice. I'm going to need their help too. I can't do it myself this time."

Alice was shaking her head, in denial. She knew the answer to her next question before she asked. He could see that too. "Our help with what?"

"Protecting Bella...when I leave."

* * *

Sitting on the couch in the living room next to Alice, telling his family he was leaving, was agonizing.

Explaining why was worse.

It was also a thing that he insisted on doing himself. He just didn't have the heart to make Alice do it, not when she looked as guilty and miserable as he felt, not when that was all his fault. He wasn't sure he could stomach listening to her try to describe it anyway.

So he did it himself: briefly, clinically, detaching himself as much as possible. Just one more step in a plan he had to carry out to protect Bella — that was the only way he could get through it, the only way he could bring himself to even _think_ it, much less say it.

He provided only the most minimal synopsis, aside from one important point. He went into great detail about the location of his meadow, making sure and certain that Emmett and Jasper, especially, understood where it was. They were to keep Bella away from there — and from him too, should he try to return to Forks — at all costs. If she were to go missing for so much as one minute, he wanted them on their way to that meadow by the next.

He finished by asking his family for help that he wasn't entirely sure he deserved but he was going to ask for anyway: protect Bella, no matter the danger, from a distance. Stay out of her life otherwise. It was the only way she might have some chance at moving on, if the future didn't change. He was going to give her that chance if it killed him, which it well might.

He couldn't look at Esme at all. He sure as hell didn't chance a glance in Rosalie's direction, either, considering the topic. She may not be his favorite person, but if he looked at her and saw raw hatred there, he wasn't sure he could take it right then. He was doing a good enough job of hating himself. So he stayed carefully out of his family's minds, for once. He felt enough like a violator already.

The only exception he made to that was Carlisle, who sat utterly still, quiet and considering. He needed to know his father's thoughts, wanted to cement his decision to leave by exposing himself to the well-deserved disappointment he fully expected to find there. Or worse, regret — regret for having changed him in the first place, regret for ever having called him son.

He had searched his father's mind for those same emotions once before, after he rebelled, after he killed men for the same crimes Alice had now predicted he would himself commit. Except his crime would be against the sweet, trusting, beautiful girl who loved him beyond what he had ever dreamed of experiencing — the ultimate betrayal. He was no better than the monsters he had hunted, no better than Rosalie's human fiance, Royce.

But condemnation wasn't what he found in Carlisle's mind — not when he'd returned home decades before as a prodigal son, and not now.

Instead, Carlisle was mentally sifting through 300 years of knowledge, legends, histories, searching for any alternative explanation to what Alice had seen. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that one must exist.

Such loyalty made Edward uncomfortable in the extreme. First Alice and now Carlisle. How could his family be so intent on trying to protect _him, w_ hen it was so clearly Bella who needed their protection?

But there was something worse than loyalty in Carlisle's thoughts. The last thing Edward needed at that moment was the threat of yet another danger to Bella, not when he knew he had to leave her. But he found one there anyway.

Carlisle's mental research had turned to possible enemies who might have a desire to harm his son. The first one he considered terrified Edward anew.

Victoria...a recent phone call received from Eleazar...a redheaded visitor to the Denali clan...questions about him, about Bella...

Edward put it together quickly from the snippets in Carlisle's mind. Victoria was coming after them. Soon.

He inhaled sharply, his body stiffening with the near irresistible compulsion to run straight to the school, where he'd left Bella with her truck when he came home early to help Alice decorate, and lock Bella up in his arms where he could keep her safe. All of his protective instincts were _screaming —_ that he needed to find her, grab her, whisk her away to the safety of the Cullen home and keep her there until he could personally tear Victoria's head from her shoulders.

Only the sick feeling that he no longer had that right held him in his seat.

He couldn't protect her without endangering her himself. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Helplessness flooded him, quickly manifested itself as anger. His eyes were blazing when he glared at his father.

"You should have told me, Carlisle. Immediately."

"I was going to, soon. Eleazar only called this week, and we both agreed that the threat isn't imminent." Carlisle was perfectly calm. "After all that the two of you have been through, I thought you and Bella deserved the chance to celebrate her final human birthday in peace."

Edward's teeth were clenched. "I left her at school alone. Unprotected."

"Bella's in danger?" Emmett stood from his spot on the loveseat by Rosalie, his fists clenching as he read between the lines as much as he could.

"Not at the moment," Carlisle replied sternly, indicating Emmett should sit. But he directed the rest of his response at Edward, ignoring the questioning looks of the rest of the family. "She's only researching, Edward, asking questions. Eleazar had the sense she hadn't decided how to proceed, that she was attempting to ascertain if you have other enemies out there. She may be looking to form an alliance. He made it clear she would find none there, and then followed her for some distance. She was headed the opposite direction of Forks, traveling east. Victoria may well represent a threat to Bella, but not an imminent one."

Edward propped his elbows on his knees, his face dropping into his hands.

"No, I suppose she's not," he said softly. "That would be me." He felt _tired_ , in a way he hadn't since he was human. "How can I protect her from everything else when I can't even protect her from myself?"

A wave of unwanted calm hit him then, just before Jasper voiced his opinion. "We should consider this from every angle. I know how things look right now, but what if it's really _not_ you, despite what Alice sees? We've seen shapeshifters before. The wolves, for example."

Jasper's priorities may have been as frustratingly warped by family loyalty as Carlisle's and Alice's, but he wasn't wrong. Edward's head shot up, his gaze piercing into his brother's. His heart desperately wanted to grab hold of that theory and run with it, right straight back into Bella's arms.

A dangerous glimmer of hope was threatening to poke through. And that scared the hell out of him, because hope could all too easily turn to _justification_ , to rationalizing a selfish decision to stay that could easily destroy the woman he loved by his own hand.

But he had to at least consider it. An external enemy would be something he could _fight._ An external enemy would mean he didn't have to leave Bella — it would mean he _couldn't_ leave her.

If he rashly reacted, instead of taking action...if he made the wrong decision on this...

"Perhaps," he murmured, intentionally letting the relentless waves of calm wash over him. His brother was bringing the full force of his powers to bear, and for the moment, he was grateful. It dulled the horror enough that he could actually _think_ , which was what Bella needed from him right then. "But the wolves don't choose their own form. It chooses them. You're talking about something that can take on the exact form of another person, at will. Is that something you've ever seen?"

Jasper's silence was answer enough, but Edward's heart was holding onto that thread of hope like a life preserver. He turned toward his father, near pleading.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle's eyes were full of sympathy as he shook his head minutely. It was exactly the type of explanation he'd just been searching for, but he wouldn't offer false hope.

"A few old legends, nothing concrete or even credible. That doesn't mean it's not possible, of course. Abilities are as varied as the individuals who possess them, and most legends have at least some origin in reality. But what you're talking about would be an uncommonly powerful ability."

Edward's eyes closed, the hope that it might not be _him_ visibly fading, and Carlisle hesitated before continuing.

"I didn't say it _couldn't_ happen. There is evidence that the most powerful gifts stem from a latent talent already present during the human life. For the purposes of our theory, perhaps someone with a remarkable talent for concealing their true motives or identity, blending into situations. Special abilities can also emerge in conjunction with an unusual or traumatic circumstance during transition. Or it's possible that one powerful vampire may be more likely to create another powerful vampire.

"If all of those qualities somehow converged in one individual, then yes, I would say there are no limits. But in general, mental abilities such as yours, Edward, would seem more likely in this scenario than an ability that affects the physical structure in some way."

Esme spoke up, her voice hopeful. "Mental...like a hallucination, perhaps? An ability to cause others to see them as someone else?"

Of course Esme refused to believe the worst in him. Edward would have expected nothing different. It was part of the reason he couldn't even look at her.

Alice chimed in, but without her usual enthusiasm. She sounded miserable to be the one to undercut a theory that might convince Edward to stay. "I don't think so. Even if somebody could influence Bella's mind to see them as Edward face-to-face, that shouldn't affect _my_ vision. I think I would see them as they actually appear at the time. And what I saw was...Edward."

Edward felt like he'd just been sucker-punched in the gut all over again as the only two theories that exonerated him died a rapid death. He could barely breathe. "So then it is me. It has to be."

"But _how_?" Alice insisted. "You'd never hurt Bella like that. You just _wouldn't_."

He couldn't imagine it either, honestly, not of his own choosing. The idea was utterly abhorrent.

And with that thought, an even more horrifying prospect occurred to him, the implications of which terrified him.

"What if it was me but I was...forced into it somehow? Coerced, mentally?"

The steady wave of calm coming at him from Jasper faltered, just for a second, but it was telling. Jasper thought he was on to something. "You're talking mind control." It was a statement, not a question.

"Not all that different from what you're doing right now, Jasper, and you know it. A similar ability, maybe, one that can inflict its will on others, force them do what it wants?"

Carlisle straightened. "Yes...I would consider that far more likely. It would certainly explain how something like this could happen. But for what purpose?" His brows knit together. "Who could possibly have a motive to make you do something like that?"

"The Volturi?" Emmett suggested, sounding near ready for a fight already. "Aro could have someone new in his collection, a new power. Rosalie's said it a hundred times and nobody listened: Edward _did_ out us to a human. Not to mention that jet we crashed."

Edward barely heard him. The thought of watching from inside his own body, trapped, knowing what was happening as he was forced to hurt Bella — it was an all-consuming terror, mingled with a fast-building anger that spread out from the center of his chest.

He was the only one who could make sure this didn't happen. Nobody could make him hurt her if he didn't go near her. Himself included.

"I have to get out of here," he said, rising to his feet. "Right now. I can't let this happen."

* * *

"Edward, please rethink this," Alice begged moments later, following him into his room. She watched helplessly as he randomly threw a few clothes into a small suitcase, then swiftly gathered his passport, credit cards, some wads of cash he had stashed away, everything he could possibly need to get the hell out of Forks and away from Bella as rapidly as possible. "You could just go ahead and change her. You've already promised her. As a newborn, she'll be even stronger than you, at least at first."

The idea washed over him, made him feel sick. Utterly nauseated. He whirled on Alice, teeth bared. "Rush to end her life just so she can _defend_ herself against me? Tie her to me forever if there's the smallest chance I could do something like that? Forget it."

_That's not what I meant. I'm_ _trying to help you both_, he heard as clearly as if she'd spoken it, and damn it, he _knew_ that was true.

So he turned his bitter tone on Carlisle instead, who had quietly appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe without speaking, watching him throw things in his suitcase. The rest of their family still waited downstairs in the living room.

"Unless you're here to tell me I have a twin brother you changed and just forgot to mention it, I don't want to hear it."

He slammed his bag shut so hard that the couch shuddered, and he nearly ripped the zippers off when he closed them.

"Son..."

"Save it." He almost jerked the handle off the case when he grabbed it and started downstairs with Alice on his heels, pushing past Carlisle at the door to his room. By the time he reached the garage, the rest of his family trailed behind him again like some kind of macabre parade. "I know what I saw."

"With absolutely no context," Alice pointed out. "Edward, you know the future I see is subjective. It can change. You've been screaming that since the day I saw Bella becoming like us."

He was already ripping the door of his car open, but that reminder was enough to make him turn around and face her, his expression furious. He'd long since burned through any remaining patience he might have had. He was dangerously close to the edge, his own memory tormenting him with image after shameful image.

"But can it really, Alice? When James came after her, you said it yourself: the one thing that never changed was Bella ending up alone with James. No matter what I did, it happened. I _kidnapped_ her, tied her up, and she still went right to him. Like some kind of goddamn sacrificial lamb."

On his last angry words, he slung the suitcase into his Volvo, right through the open driver's door and into the passenger's seat. It bounced off the far door with a resounding thud. He was only all too aware that his own actions when he had kidnapped Bella did very, very little to suggest Alice's vision wrong. It was practically the first thing he thought about. Guilt ate at him, taunting him, _accusing_ him.

Alice put her hands on his shoulders, trying to delay him from getting into the car. "Fate doesn't always work like that. You know that, Edward. I _still_ see Bella marrying you, becoming like us, despite whatever _this_ is. Doesn't that tell you something? Some details have changed, like the timing maybe, but it's still there. Maybe some futures really are written in stone. But I refuse — I completely refuse — to believe that the one we saw today is."

"So do I." Shockingly, that came from Rosalie. Even Edward paused when she finally spoke up. During the entire discussion, Rosalie was the only one who never said a word, never tried to talk him out of his near immediate determination to get the hell out of town. He had just naturally assumed she was planning his evisceration. Now, she walked right up to him and looked him straight in the eye. "Alice is right. It isn't you."

But he scoffed in disgust. He wasn't really in the mood for arguing with Rosalie, which may have been the only thing still normal in his entire universe at the moment. He went on the attack like a cornered animal, unleashing the restraint he usually held on his tongue, baring his teeth. "So what, you read minds now? How the _fuck_ could you possibly know that?"

But Rosalie saw through him, rolled her eyes, didn't give him an inch. "You think you scare me? Save it for somebody who doesn't know you so well, Edward. I was saying I know that you wouldn't do that. There has to be another explanation."

He actually hesitated. Maybe the universe _was_ completely out of whack. _Rosalie_ believed in him, despite his best effort to intimidate her and validate any horrific conclusions she'd drawn. And by some miracle, it was Rosalie who was dangerously close to damaging his resolve. And of course, there was the fact that he _wanted_ that alternative explanation she spoke of. Desperately.

But it wasn't enough.

He turned his intense gaze back to his other sister. "You will watch my decisions, Alice. If you see me coming back here, then you and Jasper take her somewhere I can't find you, no matter what I tell you about my motives. Promise me."

Alice hesitated but she promised, which was what he wanted. Even so, the idea of not being able to find Bella flooded him with terror. He pushed it down ruthlessly, reminding himself of the source of every single danger Bella had faced since the day he met her. There was one common denominator: _h_ _im_. He had no right. He turned to get in his car.

"Edward, wait, _please_." He could still barely face Esme, definitely couldn't look her in the eye, given the topic. But he at least stood still and didn't climb into the driver's seat. She pushed past Alice and Rosalie to stand directly in front of him, her fingers wrapping gently around his forearms when he wouldn't let her take his hands. He flinched at her touch and averted his face, his chin turning toward his shoulder, and stared at the floor as his mother pled with him.

"If you won't listen to us, then think about that poor girl. Carlisle said she's every bit as bonded to you as you are to her. If you leave without explanation — on her birthday, no less — what's going to happen to her?"

His voice was hard. He still wouldn't look at her. "I'm more worried about what's going to happen to her if I stay. Alice can tell her anything she wants. I'm not risking going near her, not even to say goodbye. Maybe I couldn't change her future with James, but this one I can. I can't hurt her if I'm on the other side of the world."

"You can't protect her, either. And don't you think breaking her heart is going to hurt her? She _loves_ you."

Keeping his resolve was getting harder by the second. _Damn it_ , he needed to get out of there. He made his voice cold. "She's human. She shouldn't even have a bond. It will fade for her, with time. She'll forget I ever existed."

"You can't really believe that," Esme implored. "You don't have to do this. Let us help you. I don't believe you'd hurt her, but if it makes you feel better, take one of us with you when you're going to be alone with her until you change her. Maybe Emmett. You know he adores her, and she him. She's like a little sister to him. He'd never let any harm come to her."

Esme didn't realize it, but it was her words that truly sealed his decision.

She recoiled at the ferocious look on Edward's face when he finally made eye contact. His tone was as dark as his words. "And if I really decided to hurt her, do you think I couldn't get past Emmett? I can read your minds. I can get around any or all of you. I've done it before. No. The only way for me to protect her, the only way to make completely sure that Alice's vision never sees the light of day, is for me to be as far away from her as I can get. Far enough for Alice to have time to hide her if I change my mind and decide to come back."

Then he hissed angrily, his head swinging around toward Alice abruptly. He winced sharply. "God...would you _please_ stop looking at it until I can get out of range? We both know it hasn't changed."

"Exactly, Edward!" Alice pointed out, her voice high-pitched with her excitement. "You've decided to leave, and it _hasn't changed_. You're making a _huge_ mistake."

Esme turned to Carlisle, her tone desperate. "Alice is right. You can't let him do this. Carlisle..."

Carlisle stood staunchly, his hands in his pockets. His eyes were impossibly sad. "I've given Edward my word that I will not interfere with him and Bella again. If this is what he's decided, I'm not going to stand in his way this time."

He stepped forward and put one hand on his son's shoulder. "I have faith in you that you can safely stay, but I'm not going to stop you. Be safe, son. Please check in when you can."

Edward gave a curt nod. "We still don't know what Victoria's planning or when she might come after me. Promise me you'll protect Bella, all of you. Don't interfere with her life in any other way, but please promise me you won't let anything..." His words trailed off, his jaw clenching with emotion.

Emmett and Jasper stepped up to join the rest of their family around Edward, clasping his shoulders tightly.

"You already know Alice and I will look after her," Jasper told him earnestly, his words infused with calm. "And when Alice's vision changes, and it will, you'll come back home and protect her yourself."

"Nothing is getting past me, little brother," Emmett agreed, and his teeth were bared. "Rosalie's right. I don't know _what_ Alice saw, but it's not you. If something else is coming for Bella, it'll have to get through me first."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. New Moon

Chapter 3

For the last couple hours of school that day, Bella felt like there was a rock sitting in the pit of her stomach.

She had seen Edward that morning, waking up in his arms just before he had to abruptly leave when Charlie came in earlier than usual to bring her a birthday present. He showed back up at her door after Charlie left, minus his Volvo, intent on driving her to school in her own truck, for reasons she was highly suspicious had something to do with her birthday.

He had wished her happy birthday when she opened the door, and he kissed her sweetly. Then he'd spun her around and kissed her less sweetly, up against that door, until her knees threatened to just give out completely.

He was clearly less than thrilled about Jake showing up at school and bringing her a birthday present when she wouldn't let Edward give her gifts, but otherwise, he had still been the typical, devoted, loving Edward she was used to.

Then he had mysteriously cut out of school at lunch to go home with Alice and help her with something he wouldn't discuss...most likely a birthday party, she knew, a truly cringe-worthy thought. He'd dropped just enough hints to keep her from worrying it was anything worse, a sweet gesture even if she felt mildly betrayed that he was in on the party madness.

But as the afternoon at school wore on, she started to develop the uneasy feeling that something was _wrong_.

So that rock in her stomach turned into a full-fledged boulder when she pulled into her driveway after school and saw Carlisle's car, with him standing somberly beside it. Her dad was still at work, his cruiser nowhere to be seen.

She threw her truck into park, tumbling out the door at roughly the same time. Oh, God, for the first time, she _truly_ hoped this had something to do with a surprise party. A massive one, with the whole school, her dad, the entire town of Forks there, every single one of them with presents in hand. She'd even make a speech. _Anything_ if it just meant that something terrible hadn't happened.

"Carlisle? What's wrong?" Her voice shook as she ran toward him because she knew — she just already _knew —_ that this had nothing to do with a party.

She was right about that. Carlisle's eyes were serious, his voice grave. "I need to talk to you, Bella. Please, could we have a seat on your porch?"

Woodenly, her legs carried her to the porch. She sat down right on the steps, unable to make it any further. Carlisle perched gracefully beside her.

"Where is he?" Bella pleaded. "What's going on?"

"Bella, I need for you to listen to me. And please keep in mind that Edward is only doing this for your protection."

"Doing what?" Fear held her heart in an icy grip. "Is this about Victoria?"

Carlisle's eyes were filled with sympathy. "No. It's solely about you, as with most decisions Edward makes. Alice had a vision, one that we don't understand at the moment. But it convinced Edward that he's a danger to you. He's decided to leave Forks, as a means of keeping you safe."

Bella's mouth fell open, her head shaking back and forth. "I don't under — what kind of — oh my God, Carlisle, what did Alice see?"

Carlisle shook his head. "I won't tell you the specifics and neither will Alice. Edward doesn't know I'm here. He did, however, ask that the rest of us protect you in his absence. I'm doing that the best way I know how, by sharing as much of the truth as possible with you. But the details are his to tell you, and his alone, if he so chooses.

"I'm not certain of the meaning of Alice's vision, but my family will protect you, Bella. We won't interfere in your life beyond that, as per my son's wishes, but we will protect you. You are part of our family now, with or without Edward."

Tears filled her eyes, but she barely felt them. An ache had started in her heart, one that began spreading throughout her chest. Her voice was a tiny, hopeless sound. "Is he coming back?"

Carlisle's eyes were haunted. He sighed. "I wish I knew the answer to that, Bella. I wish I knew."

* * *

Carlisle saw her safely into the house before he left, reassuring her that someone would check in with her soon. They would have a protection detail organized before nightfall, although he hadn't told her exactly what they were trying to protect her from, and she didn't ask. It seemed unimportant, all things considered.

His taillights had barely disappeared before she was back in her truck. She had no idea where she was going. But she couldn't sit in that house alone, waiting for Charlie to come home prepared to celebrate her birthday, in a place where everything she saw made her think of _him_ , and pretend that the entire world hadn't just crashed at her feet.

She had known he wasn't coming back before the words were out of Carlisle's mouth. She couldn't say how. She just _knew._

She didn't go to the Cullens' house. She already knew he wasn't there. She drove aimlessly for a while, until well after dark. She cried her eyes out.

Eventually, she ran into a massive fallen tree limb across the road, somewhere way out in the woods on a secluded road she didn't know, because she couldn't see through the tears. She ended up skidding off the road.

Her truck was many things. Equipped with airbags was not, however, one of them.

She didn't have a phone, and her truck refused to crank again. Dazed, pretty sure her head was bleeding, she got out and started walking, pulling her jacket closer around her.

It started to rain, of course. It was Forks...or somewhere close by, since she didn't really know where she was. Either way, it wasn't like the odds were stacked against rain. She was a long way from her truck, and an even longer way from home, when the bottom fell out and it started to pour. She stumbled into the woods, shivering, looking for a dry place to shelter.

She _knew_ better than that. Of course she did. Getting lost in the woods was all too easy, even for the locals. Charlie had started drilling that into her head when she was two. She stumbled further into the trees anyway and just kept putting one foot in front of the other. When she collapsed from pure exhaustion, she didn't try to get up.

That was the whole idea, after all, whatever it might say about her sanity. She'd known that since the moment she started driving.

He would find her. It was _Edward_. He'd promised never to abandon her, reassured her of his presence over and over again that awful week after she got home from the hospital, the week she'd been terrified of exactly _this_.

He knew what scared her most. There was no way he wouldn't come for her.

* * *

Emmett Cullen had been cultivating a theory, for a while, that he was becoming immune to the smell of Bella Swan's blood.

He didn't usually test that theory, because he had sort of become accustomed to having the funny little human around, and Edward was generally less of a mopey pain in the ass with her there anyway. But he was pretty sure he was becoming immune, nonetheless. He'd been exposed to it more than a few times. She was Isabella Swan. She couldn't walk across a flat surface without tripping over something invisible. She bled a LOT.

But she was also funny as hell, she was going to be his little sister one day, and he would happily rip anything or anyone that threatened her into tiny pieces. Okay, he'd happily rip stuff into tiny pieces with no motivation whatsoever, but if something threatened Bella, he'd _mean_ it.

So when he was the one to find her — _finally_ — he didn't stop to call Carlisle, despite the dried blood smeared all over her forehead. Carlisle would tell him to leave her alone unless danger was imminent, to just watch over her from a safe distance until either the police or the wolves could find her. Theirs wasn't the only search party out in the woods. Blah, blah, blah, he'd heard the whole lecture before he came out there. Edward didn't want them to _interfere_.

Well, _f_ _uck_ that. She didn't belong to the wolves. She belonged to _them._ All of them.

He did, though, put his earpiece in and call Jasper, who had been with him when they found Bella's truck and decided to split up to look for her. The heavy rain had diluted her scent.

He warned him to go the other way instead of meeting back up with him. Danger, Will Robinson. Retreat. Blood. He'd hate to have to rip one of Jasper's arms off. Mostly because a truly pissed off Alice was one terrifying little pixie who might actually be able to hurt him, but damned if he'd admit _that._ Not to anybody.

Jasper annoyed him instantly by choosing that day to start channeling Carlisle. "So what are you going to do now? You know we're not supposed to interfere."

Emmett wasn't listening. He was already close enough to carefully test his theory. He inhaled, just the tiniest breath. Yep. Very little urge to turn his human sister into a snack. So he held his breath and picked her up before he bothered answering Jasper, deciding to slowly ease back into breathing as he did so. He wanted to just hang up, but he didn't. Distractions were awesome.

"I'm not interfering. Hey, Bella...can you hear me? What'd you trip over this time?"

Jasper's voice snorted in his ear. "Yeah, clearly not interfering in any way. Carlisle's going to be pissed. Not to mention Edward."

Bella was completely out of it, or he would have toned down his answer. Probably. Maybe. There was a slight chance. "Yeah, _fuck_ Edward."

Jasper chuckled. "I'd rather not, thanks. Not my type."

"This little girl is colder than me right now. Ed's just lucky I don't beat his ass."

Jasper's sigh sounded in Emmett's ear. He was getting ready to start sounding like Carlisle again. Emmett could hear it coming. When did Jasper stop being the fun brother? Stick-in-the-mud was a role Emmett had mentally held reserved for Edward for several decades, not newbie-Jasper.

"Well...I'd say get in line, but I literally got to feel everything he was feeling today. It wasn't pretty. How would you react if you saw something like that about you and Rose?"

Emmett rolled his eyes. This crap again?

"I don't know. Probably like I'm sick of her being everybody's favorite low blow any time something remotely like this comes up? Or like she moved past all that decades ago, and I wish everybody else would just let her? She's perfectly capable of handing my ass to me if I tried some kind of shit with her. Which I know I wouldn't anyway, so if it was about us, I guess I'd just get over myself and we'd move the fuck on and not sweat it."

He wasn't really expecting Jasper to laugh. "That's more words than I've heard you say since the day I met you. Touch a nerve much?"

"Shut up. Edward can still shove his stupid rules."

"Alice would agree. So where are you taking Bella? Just so I can make myself scarce."

"Anybody else find the truck yet?" Emmet asked.

"Not yet. There's nothing out here for miles."

"Then I'm putting her back in it, turning the heat on, and making an anonymous 911 call about a piece-of-shit orange nightmare abandoned on the side of the road. She doesn't freeze to death, nobody ever knows we were here, and Eddie has nothing to bitch about. Badda-bing."

He could almost hear Jasper's eyebrow go up. "Not bad."

"You don't have to sound so surprised, asshole."

He was juggling klutzo-Bella and trying not to focus on the blood on her forehead, so he still didn't manage to disconnect the call at his earpiece before he had to hear his brother's stupid chuckle again.

It took a little doing, because apparently now Bella was a menace behind the wheel as well as on foot, but he managed to get her battered truck to splutter to life again and got the heat going full blast. Rosie could have done it faster, but that didn't really bother him so much. He was kinda proud of that fact.

He still didn't stray too far until a patrol car got there and he knew Bella was safely on her way back to Charlie Swan.

Then he breathed a sigh of relief — and fresh air — and pulled out his phone. He got good and comfortable in the tree he'd been lounging in to keep watch.

He'd already given one brother an earful tonight.

It was past time for the other one to get one too. It was at least partly because Edward deserved it for taking off. But it was mostly because he was worried about him. Not that he'd ever admit that either.

* * *

After his brother hung up, Edward sat in his parked car in silence, head on the steering wheel, clutching his phone in his hand so tightly that it threatened to crack.

He hadn't really thought this all the way through. Emmett's phone call had made that crystal clear.

He nearly hadn't answered the phone. He wasn't as entirely resolved in his decision to leave as he would like, and he was getting less resolved with every mile he put between himself and Bella. He didn't need anyone trying to talk him out of it again, not when he was all too willing to _be_ talked out of it.

But it was Emmett calling. Emmett, who had been the most sincere, by far, in his promise to protect Bella for him. He couldn't _not_ answer.

He regretted that decision instantly.

The first 30 seconds was, essentially, a string of profanities and insults that was impressive even for Emmett.

That, he was used to. But he very nearly lost control of his car — undoubtedly a first for a vampire — when Emmett recounted the events of the night. That was when he pulled off the isolated road and dropped his head to the wheel, clutching the steering column and willing himself not to turn around.

He should be putting more distance between himself and Bella, but at that moment, staying put and not turning around was about as noble as he could be. He felt an invisible pull back toward Forks that was a near physical force. The urge to run back to his mate, to see for himself that she was okay, was overwhelming.

He'd been gone less than a day. He hadn't even decided on a final destination yet. And already, Bella had wrecked her truck, split her head open, and nearly frozen to death in the woods. Alone. While a pack of _wolves_ searched for her.

Worst of all, he knew _why_.

He hadn't needed Emmett to tell him what Bella was doing lying in a ball in the woods, even if he was a little surprised just how perceptive his brother could be when he paid attention.

He _really_ hadn't needed Emmett to tell him repeatedly, in very emphatic but also very crude terms, who he thought was responsible and why. He'd seen Alice's vision. He had no problem believing he was, quote, a fucking asshole. What he couldn't comprehend was how Emmett considered that quality to be a valid reason why he should 'get his ass home immediately'. That rationale must have been lost between profanities.

But when Emmett dropped the tough guy act and simply said he missed his brother, asked him to come home, he found himself arguing all the reasons why he shouldn't.

That led to him confessing far more than he intended about why it was so easy to believe the vision might be him.

The vulgar thoughts he'd been harboring about Bella mere seconds before Alice's vision had tortured him ever since.

Emmett, however, just scoffed. "Big deal. So you were fantasizing about having sex with your very willing girlfriend. Ask Jasper sometime about how willing she is. He can barely stand to be around either one of you lately, and I'm not talking about her blood. None of that is shocking, Edward. It's pretty damn normal."

Edward squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to believe he was having this conversation. "Not just sex. This was _vulgar_ , Emmett. I imagined..." He trailed off.

"Having your way with her?" Emmett asked knowingly. "Getting a little rough?"

He didn't deny it, but he sounded a little strangled. "In front of the Quileute boy, Ephraim Black's grandson." He said it like he was confessing to a crime, handing over the most damming piece of evidence available. "I've seen his thoughts about her, his _fantasies_. I wanted to...mark her. Claim my territory."

Emmett snorted. "So you're an actual vampire after all. It only took a hundred years. But would you have actually done any of that, Edward?"

"No!" That was immediate, before he even thought about it. And then he _did_ think about it. "God, no! Never."

And then he put an end to that topic when Emmett put a qualifier on it. "While she's human, you mean. Aside from the Jacob Black thing — because that one's a little screwed up even for guys like us — you might actually change your mind on some of the rest of that later. Or she might change it for you."

Edward wasn't going any farther down that road, especially not the 'guys like us' part. He wasn't sure when _that_ had happened. Ultimately, none of it mattered. He wasn't going to be touching Bella roughly, gently, or anywhere in between. He was leaving, and that was the end of it. He wasn't taking a chance.

But back to the more pressing point, as he ran the conversation back through his mind, he knew exactly what Bella had been doing in the woods. She was waiting for him to come find her. He had known that the second he heard what had happened.

His cold heart ached like it was alive, but even that wasn't half as sharp as the _longing_. What wouldn't he have given to _be_ the one to rescue her, like she wanted?

Not half as much as what he'd give for her to never be in danger in the first place.

It wasn't enough just to leave. That was becoming clear. Because if anything like this happened again, he'd be on the first plane back to her, even if he had to hijack the damn thing. And that was the most dangerous place he could be. Returning to her was something he couldn't allow, not unless Alice told him it was safe.

_Please, Alice_ , he thought, _say that it's safe, that this was all a mistake._

But his phone didn't ring with that message. And Bella would keep doing this, he realized with clarity. She wouldn't give up on him. Not unless he made her.

He knew what he had to do.

But God...could he?

* * *

He waited until he made it to Brazil, until he found somewhere — anywhere — that would take his money and just get him off the crowded streets where he could have some privacy, somewhere he could be miserable alone.

He barely even noticed the squalor of the apartment he'd just rented for...what...a month? A year? He had no idea. He'd basically stumbled into a rental office, signed some papers and thrown a wad of cash at the slumlord, probably far too much, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Ever since Emmett called with a dose of reality, for the rest of his time on the road and in the air, he'd gone over his horrific plan in his head, every fiber of his being resisting the things he knew he would have to say.

There was no end date on this threat. So long as there was any chance he might be a danger to Bella, especially the type of danger Alice had seen, he wouldn't dare go near her. And he would not damage her further by giving her false hope, by asking her to wait for a mate who might never return.

So that settled it. He was going to break Bella's heart, try to give her a clean break. He was going to do it _intentionally_.

He'd told her he loved her more times than he could count, with his heart in his eyes. What would it take to convince her he _didn't_ love her, didn't want her, that she was nothing more than a distraction in his long, monotonous life after death?

He dropped his head in his hands, tortured by the same merciless memory that sprang to mind unbidden every time he thought about breaking her heart: Bella's face on the night she got home from the hospital after James had hurt her.

He'd been keeping guard outside her house that night, while he waited for her to go to bed so he could meet her in her room, just in case Victoria was foolish enough to go anywhere _near_ her. He'd occupied his time with trying to make sense of the jumbled-up mishmash of Charlie and Renee's tortured thoughts, trying to catch glimpses of Bella, reassure himself that she was okay.

All he'd been able to see was a peek here and there through Renee's erratic thoughts, enough to frustrate him with the fact that Bella was hopping wearily through the house on a wild goose chase for Renee, when a _responsible_ parent should have known she needed to rest.

She'd looked equal parts brokenhearted and exhausted in the glimpses he could catch. He'd kind of wanted to strangle somebody — most likely Renee, although Charlie was another viable candidate — but he'd known he'd be the one taking care of her again in a few short hours, so he'd been doing an admirable job of restraining himself.

Or he _had_ been, at least until Alice had called him in a panic to ask what was going on with Bella, why their entire future had just blinked out and disappeared, leaving nothing but a blurry haze of insecurity and indecision.

To say that scared the hell out of him was an understatement. He'd gone hyperalert to any sound from her house. He'd barely made it until Alice could drop his car off in the driveway before he was banging on the door, trying to remember why it would be a bad idea to just tear it off the hinges and get to Bella faster.

It was putting it mildly to say that he was confused when a clearly relieved Bella opened the door and all but collapsed straight into his arms. He'd nearly crushed her in his embrace.

Thus had begun the longest week of his life, with Bella clinging to him one moment and pushing him away the next, so painfully insecure of him that she'd nearly driven him mad.

He'd seen it in her eyes all week. She hadn't trusted him not to leave her. What he hadn't been able to fathom was how she believed he actually _could_.

And now he had. The irony of it was bitterly cruel.

But anything...even breaking her heart and confirming her worst fears...was better than what would happen to her if he didn't.

So he waited until the next morning in Forks, until he could almost picture her in Charlie's kitchen, eating her breakfast. Then he leaned against the wall by the window, looking out into the busy city street, a bitter reminder that life outside went on, blissfully oblivious to the shattering of his heart.

He held his breath and forced his fingers to dial a number he could never let himself dial again.

Bella's house.

* * *

"Bella?"

She barely registered Charlie's presence when he called her name. She sat at the kitchen table staring out the window, clutching her jacket to her chest, the jacket she should be putting on and leaving for school. It did nothing to muffle the ache in her heart. Her breakfast was untouched.

It had been a day and a half. A day and a half of no contact. It might as well have been a lifetime. Charlie was trying. But there was nothing he or anyone else could do to make it better.

"Bella!" Charlie tried again, and he sounded more urgent for her attention, enough to make her look his direction. He was holding the phone in one hand, covering the mouthpiece with the other and gesturing with it more animatedly than she'd ever seen from her laidback father. She hadn't even heard the phone ring. "It's for you! It's Edward."

If she'd ever doubted her dad loved her unselfishly, that doubt would have fled with the knowledge that _Charlie_ appeared overjoyed that Edward was on the phone. But there was no time to dwell on the worry she'd put him through the past two days.

She moved faster than she would have thought possible, launching herself out of the chair and toward the phone. Ordinarily, she probably would have tripped over her own two feet, especially after her recently healed ankle break, but getting to that phone — getting to _Edward —_ was imperative. She stayed upright.

" _Edward_?" She could hear the desperation in her own voice as she pressed the receiver to her ear, knew she needed to tone it down in front of Charlie. But she might just as easily have been attempting to hold back the tide from the shore.

But Edward's reply was flat, toneless, completely lacking emotion. _Formal._

"Isabella. I called to say goodbye."

Her heart dropped into her stomach at that tone, so unlike the gentle tones Edward normally used when he spoke to her, the ones that gave her butterflies in her stomach.

Like a hostage in a movie, she felt desperate to keep him talking. Only this wasn't a movie, and there was no one coming to rescue her if she could just keep him talking long enough. The only person she wanted to save her was Edward, and for the first time, she was pretty sure that wasn't his intention.

With great difficulty, she modified her tone, kept it calm. "Edward, where are you? What's going on? Whatever it is, just tell me. Please."

She was vaguely aware of eyes burning into her, looked up to see a deeply concerned Charlie still at her side, hanging on her every word. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning way that would have been comically absurd under any other circumstances, like the reserved police chief might next be found wanting to gossip with Alice.

"Well?" her dad mouthed silently, and it was surreal. Charlie was dangerously close to...well, to _hovering_. But the look on Bella's face must have made her desire for privacy clear, because he nodded slightly then, a scowl twisting his lips as he held his palms up to indicate surrender, and then vacated the room.

The line stayed quiet for agonizingly long moments, so long that Bella felt panic rising up. "Edward? Hello?" Panic gripped her, twisted her insides. " _Edward?"_

She could hear the ragged breath he drew, right through the phone line.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here."

His soft words, the same ones he'd used countless times to calm and reassure her, broke over her with the force of a thousand waves.

She couldn't hold back the tide anymore. She was drowning in it.

* * *

He was supposed to be an accomplished liar, a talented actor when he needed to be. He had enough decades of practice.

He also had an intensely rehearsed plan, a script to follow when he ruthlessly broke the heart of the one woman he would ever love.

But he never made it past the first sentence. At just one plea from Bella, the raw _fear_ in her voice when she desperately called his name, he was instantly undone.

He didn't mean to say it. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, his tone the gentle voice of a lover. He cursed himself for a fool. There was little chance she hadn't noticed, and the way her breath caught confirmed it.

That tiny sound broke him the rest of the way, completely and without remedy.

Making her understand that he wasn't coming back was necessary, to keep her from endangering herself again.

Such blasphemous cruelty as he had planned was not.

"I can't do this," he half whispered into the phone then, his voice breaking. "Forgive me, Bella, for ever considering it. I can't tell you that I don't love you — not even to make this easier for you. I'm not capable of it."

The tremor in her breathing was torture. He could vividly picture the way her lower lip would be quivering, her watery brown eyes. She sounded terrified. "Make what easier? Edward, what do you mean?"

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "I mean that I'm not coming back, Bella. I mean that this is goodbye."

He desperately hoped that that was a lie, that one day it would be safe for him to return to her, fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness for ever leaving. But he couldn't promise that, and so this was the only way. Bella's life was not going to be one spent in limbo, waiting for something that might never happen. He wouldn't allow it.

He knew the potential cost of his lie. If he could eventually return and she was willing to forgive him, he would count himself the luckiest creature on earth. But if she moved on in his absence and rejected him, that would be his burden to bear, not hers. Never hers, not if he could help it.

Her quiet words radiated misery, and he _hated_ himself for being the cause of it. "You're not coming back...ever?"

He leaned his forehead against the wall, closed his eyes, dug his fingernails into the windowsill so hard that he felt the frame crack. "No. This will be the last time I contact you. I'm going to give you a clean break, Bella. It's the only gift I have left to give you. I want you to be able to move on. But I need you to promise me something first.

"I need to know you won't put yourself in danger again. You have to understand that I won't be there to save you, Bella. I _can't_ be. I want you to promise me that you understand, that you'll be more careful. _Promise_ me, love."

She was crying then, _crying,_ and he'd never hurt like that in his 110 years. "Don't do this, Edward. _Please_. Just come home."

He was dangerously, _dangerously_ close to doing just that. The thought of bursting through her window, dropping to his knees before her, clutching her to him and burying his face in her soft stomach as he begged her forgiveness, was nearly his undoing.

So he beat that image back, forcing himself to replace it with the horror of Alice's vision. It had brought him all the way to Brazil. Now he had to let it be enough to keep him there.

"Promise me, Bella. I need to hear you say it. I can only survive this if I know that you're safe."

The wait was agonizing, nearly as much as her muffled sobs she tried but failed to hide from him. "I promise," she finally whispered, and the finality of it all hit him.

"Thank you. In return, I promise not to make this harder than it has to be. I'm going to say goodbye now. You won't hear from me again."

"Edward, _wait_!"

He shouldn't, but he did. If there was a sentence that defined his entire relationship with her, that was it.

"I'm here." It was the last time. He promised himself he would not say it again.

"Please," she begged. "You don't have to do this. You're not going to hurt me."

His breath froze in his chest, shame and anger flooding him in equal measure.

Bella _knew_? Suddenly, Brazil wasn't far enough away.

"They told you. They had no right." His fury came through in his voice.

"Carlisle came to see me. He said that Alice..."

He'd survived telling his family. But if there was one thing he couldn't handle, it would be discussing Alice's vision with Bella. He wasn't letting her finish that sentence.

_"Stop._ Please. At least I know you understand why this is necessary. Please forgive me, Bella. I do love you, no matter how difficult that may be to believe now. But I'm not coming back, so I want you to move on. Be happy, Bella. That's all I want for you."

He forced himself to hang up before she could stop him again — before he could make things even worse.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Push and Pull

Chapter 4

October...

* * *

November...

* * *

December...

* * *

Three months.

Over three months without setting eyes on Bella, without feeling her touch. He missed the sound of her heartbeat. He missed the sound of her voice. Three months of worrying for her safety every moment, when his very nature dictated he keep his mate at his side where he could protect her himself.

It was torture. More than Edward could bear. But bear it he must. What choice did he have?

The urge to spend his time tracking down Victoria — thereby eliminating at least one threat facing Bella — was overwhelming. But he resisted that temptation. Hunting Victoria meant giving himself over to his predatory senses. That thought made him uneasy, especially if the hunt took him anywhere near Forks. He needed to keep his brain, rather than his instincts, in control of his body. He mistrusted himself enough as it was.

So instead, he stared out the window as the long days and nights passed. He seldom moved, other than to check in with Alice once per day in the futile hope that her vision had changed. It didn't, of course. He rarely spoke with his other family members. They had no hope to offer either.

His body may have been still. His mind wasn't. Memories assailed him. His moments spent with Bella replayed across his mind's eye with crystal clarity, both the good and the bad, until he could almost _feel_ her in his arms, feel her soft, warm lips against his own.

Those particular memories didn't make him feel better. They made him feel _guilty._ The image of himself assaulting Bella had shaken him to his very foundation, challenging every preconceived notion of his own identity. Nothing felt real anymore, not even the face he saw reflected back at him in the window when the lights were low.

So for those three months, he put himself under the microscope. He searched every remembered interaction through the lens of Alice's vision, looking for any clue that he wasn't the man he believed himself to be, that his baser side held more sway than his love for Bella, that there was any chance he could _do_ something like that to her.

In the end, he just couldn't reconcile it. There was no part of him that could imagine himself doing that to Bella. Not that. Not ever, for any reason.

So what was he doing in Brazil, leaving her unprotected?

Every aspect of his being rebelled against being away from his mate — _every_ aspect. Mental, emotional and physical. The mated vampire and the human in love. The crushing weight of it drew him, near irresistibly, back toward Bella.

It was a silent, burning agony; a constant push and pull.

He wanted to go home.

He was _terrified_ to go home.

What scared him most were the times that his thoughts ran idle. Because it was during those times that his mind, entirely of its own accord, formulated plans for getting Bella back into his arms. Scarily elaborate plans that centered around one thing: how he could return to Forks undetected; how he could get around his family if they honored his wishes and tried to keep his mate from him.

He hadn't been lying when he told Esme that he could find a way around the lot of them, were he so inclined. It scared him just as much in the present as it did when he first admitted it — even if his current motivations felt pure, even if the Bella in his plans was just as determined to be back in his arms as he was to retrieve her.

It was all too eerily reminiscent of the schemes he'd concocted that first day in biology class when he first laid eyes on Bella — but also, more importantly, when he first inhaled the luscious scent of her blood. He'd had his attack planned down to the last twitch of his fingers that day too, how he would lure her away, how many innocents he was willing to kill to get it done.

He hadn't gone through with it back then, of course. He'd found the will to resist, just as he was doing now. That fact still did little to reassure him of his own morality.

So he endured it, that silent burning agony of staying away. He endured every hollow moment of it, because the alternative was worse. The alternative was unforgivable, and he'd sooner die, if that's what it took, than allow it to ever happen.

* * *

Alice stared at her phone as it vibrated. She wasn't looking forward to this. She hadn't looked forward to it when it happened the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that. She wasn't going to be looking forward to it tomorrow, either.

Edward was calling. And she was going to have to break his heart yet again.

The questions would be no different than all the days before.

No, nothing had changed. Yes, her vision still showed him violently attacking Bella in their special meadow. No, she didn't have the first damn clue how to stop it. And just in case he was curious, yes. She did, in fact, feel like this whole thing was all her fault.

And then, inevitably, he would ask the most painful question. The one where his voice would threaten to break.

The answer was still no. Bella was most definitely _not_ okay, nor was there any indication that she was going to be in the near future, either.

Alice saw it every day at school, albeit from a distance. Bella wasn't handling his absence well. She wasn't handling it at _all._ And Alice didn't have a clue how to help, especially not with her hands tied by her brother's godforsaken rules. Not to mention that the presence of their family seemed to make things far worse for Bella, rather than better. Edward might actually have been right about it being best if they stayed away.

But to her surprise, that day, something finally changed. Right in the middle of a phone call just like all of the other calls before it, there was finally a new question. One tinged with desperation. One so selfless that it made her wish she could just _hug_ him, because if anything, he was in worse shape than Bella.

"Is there anything I can do, Alice? Anything any of us can do to help her cope, without hurting her worse? I'd do anything."

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes. You can come home."

He paused for so long, she thought he might actually be considering it this time. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd suggested it.

Then he sighed, miserably, and she took pity on him. "I can't. You, out of everyone, know why I can't."

She did, actually. She didn't want her vision coming true any more than he did, no matter the cause — mind control, doppelganger, whatever. It would break him, more so than he was already broken, if that was possible.

"Let me think about it, okay?" she hedged, instead.

"Without meddling in her life, Alice," he insisted. "Without giving her false hope."

Great. So that ruled out kidnapping the stubborn girl and just making her eat, which she had no problem admitting was her very first idea. She was prepared to take back every judgmental thought she'd had about Edward when he kidnapped Bella the first time. If anyone could drive an overprotective vampire to kidnapping — or even a stylish psychic vampire — it was most definitely Bella Swan.

But helping Bella without kidnapping _or_ meddling? That might be an impossible request.

_No promises_ , she thought by way of reply. It was strange knowing he was too far away to hear it.

"I'll be in touch if I think of something," she said aloud, instead.

False hope, indeed.

* * *

Victoria snapped her teeth in utter frustration from her shared perch high in the trees above Forks, a perfect vantage point for miles in any direction.

Where _was_ he? Nearly four months, and there was no sign of Edward Cullen. Yet the Cullen clan still protected Isabella Swan, seemingly without her knowledge. It made it difficult for herself and Albert to get very close without their presence being detected. And they didn't want that. Not just yet.

Her patience was wearing thin. But there was little to be gained from carrying out Albert's plan if Edward wasn't there to see the damage, to suffer and wallow and _hurt_ because of it.

So they waited.

She should just kill the girl and be done with it. Surely _that_ would bring Edward Cullen back to town. And then, when he had suffered enough, she just might end him too.

"Patience, love."

The oily voice beside her grated on her. Albert wasn't James. James had always enjoyed toying with their prey, to a certain extent. But Albert had different tastes, ones that her powers for evasion warned her could pose an exposure risk.

Local authorities were already starting to connect the string of missing females from surrounding towns. There was talk in the papers of a serial killer. One disappearance every few weeks. There was a reason Albert had existed as a nomad, never staying in one place like this for too long.

Practice, he called it. He stalked them for days. He learned everything about them. More importantly, he learned everything about their significant others, until he could duplicate them perfectly.

He liked the slow game. He always had, even as a human. He liked pretending to romance them first, even improving on some aspect of their partner that dissatisfied them.

He had complete control over his strength, his thirst. It had taken a long time to achieve that. Decades. His first forays after his transformation had been over far too quickly, his victims mangled masses of flesh. By now, he knew how to touch a human gently, skillfully. Without causing pain until he chose to.

Sometimes he kept them for days.

Then, when they least expected it, everything changed. He became a monster in the span of one heartbeat, no longer hiding his cruelty, no longer caring if he hurt them as he easily subdued their struggles and took what he wanted. In fact, he preferred it when they were in pain — when they tried to fight him. It was their _fear_ that did it for him, not the sex. It was _power_. He slowly drained their blood as he defiled their bodies, watching for that perfect moment to transition back to his true self, for his face to be the last they saw.

It had been his game before Edward killed him too, albeit minus the powers of transformation. Back then, he had simply wooed them, ingratiated himself, gained their trust, blending himself into their world effortlessly.

The end result had been the same. They still saw a monster before they died.

Some long-buried humanity inside Victoria almost sympathized with Edward's decision to kill him.

But she needed him, at least for the moment. It was undeniable that his plan would bring Edward the most pain. She had little care for Bella Swan.

"Yes, love. Patience."

She flinched at the unexpected voice of Edward Cullen right next to her ear. She bared her teeth as she turned to the vampire perched beside her and saw the face of her enemy, those odd amber eyes. Albert was practicing again.

She hated when he did that. The barely visible fog from his nostrils — the physical product of his will to smell and sound like Edward Cullen — enveloped her. It physically affected her senses, making the effect complete.

"I spent 90 years perfecting these gifts," he reminded her in Edward's gentle voice, "waiting for my opportunity for revenge. I've been patient for this long. We wait. If she's truly his mate, he'll return. He'll have no choice."

Victoria cocked her head to the side. She was ready to finish this — both her revenge and her alliance. "Maybe we don't give him one."

Albert leaned closer, intrigued. Too close. "Go on."

"The Cullens are expecting me eventually. So I let them see me. I let them chase me away. If he believes she's in danger, maybe he comes back to protect her."

A slow grin spread across the handsome face that looked exactly like Edward Cullen's. "Yes. Do it often enough, and they become complacent about leaving her alone when they chase you. They believe you to be the only threat. It will make my job easier, when the time comes."

* * *

Alice tried to think of a way to help Bella while still honoring her brother's noninterference wishes.

She really, really tried. She tried for several weeks after Edward asked. But it was now going on four months, total, since he had left, and there was only so much she could take.

She was supposed to meddle only to prevent certain death, right? Well, that was fine. Because at the rate she was going, Bella was certainly going to kill herself, sooner or later and one way or the other. The girl didn't eat. Apparently, she didn't sleep. She most definitely didn't take care of herself or even _shop._ All of those things could kill a human, right?

And in all seriousness, Alice didn't want to spend too much time examining Edward's likely reaction to Bella's death, were the worst to happen. Losing a brother wasn't in her immediate plan.

What Bella needed, desperately, was somebody to talk to. Somebody that she could be fully open with about what she was going through, without having to protect vampire secrets in the process. Somebody who had a hope of understanding what it would feel like to have one's mate ripped away with no warning.

In other words, not a human.

Well, _that_ was a problem, because Bella only knew a few vampires, and she refused to speak to any of them at school. Or even look at them. Most especially Alice, who felt kind of like the unfair victim in a game of shoot-the-messenger. After the hundredth-or-so time the Cullens realized that their very presence made Bella clutch at her chest and look like she was about to double over, they had all started giving her a wide berth. Poor Emmett looked like a kicked puppy every time she looked right through him, though.

And then there were Edward's rules to consider, rules which Carlisle insisted they all follow.

So by process of elimination, if Alice and her siblings were forbidden to interact with Bella, she had a pretty good idea who Bella needed to unload on.

It just might kill two birds with one stone. Because what Edward needed, whether he thought so or not, was to hear the full truth of what was going on with Bella. He wouldn't let Alice tell him too much, probably because he knew, deep down where he wouldn't admit it, that he'd be on the next plane home if he found out just how poorly his mate was faring in his absence.

Of course, she had no doubt that her brother was faring even worse. She could hear it in his voice. The mate bond for him was even more powerful and binding than it was for Bella, as both a vampire and a male, so there was no doubt he was suffering as much or more than Bella.

All of that meant it was time to _do_ something, and one thing was for certain: Alice wasn't going to make the mistake of trying to get _his_ approval on her final plan.

She did not answer any more of his calls once she decided.

She did, on the other hand, go a little overboard blinging out _one_ of the two matching pink items she purchased. But only one of them. Edward wasn't worthy of bling at the moment.

She knew exactly where he was, of course. He was in a slummy apartment in Brazil. She knew that because she'd convinced him, the very first time he called in after he left, to accept her friend locator app request so she could keep track of him.

Okay, maybe, technically, it was more like blackmail than convincing. She had just threatened to stop keeping tabs on his clumsy girlfriend and let Bella's own luck catch up with her if he didn't hit 'accept'. He growled at her furiously, but she got the notification that he'd approved her request before the sound was fully out of his mouth. So she at least knew where he was, right down to an address.

Alice, 1.

Modern technology, 1.

Edward, 0.

The idiot. God, she missed him.

* * *

When someone had the audacity to start relentlessly pounding on his door, when he hadn't had news from Forks for four days because Alice had mysteriously stopped taking his calls and he was already losing his mind, Edward nearly slipped for the first time in better than ninety years.

He didn't even want blood. Well, not in the literal sense. More the figurative one, if whoever was beating on his door didn't go the fuck away. He just wanted to be left _alone_. Horribly, miserably alone. Like he had been for the past four months. And if ripping off some lost stranger's head was what it took to achieve that, then he was sorely tempted.

With very little care for keeping a low profile, he snarled ferociously as he jerked open his door, pulling it completely off the top hinge, intent on intimidating his harasser into leaving quickly. But whether he cared to hunt or not, venom still pooled in his throat at the sudden _explosion_ of scent, made more powerful by both his severely untended thirst and his long seclusion from humans.

It was close, honestly.

But then he stopped completely short, staring. The box being held out to him in trembling human hands was just as pink as it could be, and there were English words written on the side facing him, in a girly scrawl he recognized...Alice.

_Don't kill the messenger. Just take the box._

The terrified courier was only all too happy to get out of there, practically throwing the box at him before beating a hasty retreat. Edward hadn't cared enough to deliberately scan anyone's thoughts in months, but curiosity got the better of him. Alice had a long reach and an even deeper wallet, apparently. The courier was getting enough money for his troubles that he had no intention of questioning anything he had just seen.

Edward slammed the door — as best he could with it hanging off the hinges — and forgot him instantly.

The pink cardboard shredded easily against his poorly controlled fingers. Finesse didn't interest him at the moment, any more than hunting did.

He stared at what he saw inside.

A pink cell phone?

Alice at least had his attention, if only because there was little doubt this had something to do with his desperate request for a way to help Bella. He searched the remains of the ill-fated pink box and found what he was looking for — a scrap of paper, also covered with Alice's distinctive handwriting.

_She needs you. Answer this when it rings but don't say a word. All you have to do is listen._

_—Alice_

Frowning, he turned the little phone on.

He had one contact, a number he didn't recognize, but Alice had left little to chance in choosing a name for his one contact:

_Mrs. Bella Swan Cullen._

Subtle.

And unnecessary. Alice had him at "she needs you", and she damn well knew it.

* * *

The days ran together for Bella. Or was it months now? She couldn't remember anymore. The dull ache that was constantly present in her chest never changed much, regardless, other than the times that it would erupt into blazing flames any time she heard his name. _Him._

Fresh tears poked her eyes at the very thought of his name. She tried not to do that any more often than she could possibly help it.

Nothing was very interesting anymore.

At least not until the day that she walked in from school, like any other drudging, monotonous, lifeless day, and there was a pink package sitting on the table with her name on it.

It could be anything. It could be from anybody. It could be new socks and underwear from her mom...well, if she had the kind of mother who did responsible things like that. So...probably not socks and underwear.

But her heart was racing, regardless. She couldn't say how, but she knew...it was something to do with him.

She ripped it open, more color coming into her cheeks than had been seen in four months, two days, and twenty-three hours. Okay, so maybe she did remember.

She was holding her breath when she lifted out the exquisitely jeweled ceramic box and opened the lid. She blinked at the contents, not sure what she had expected, only knowing this wasn't it.

It was a cell phone. A pretty pastel pink she would have never chosen and way too flashy for her taste, but a cell phone nonetheless. The entire thing just _screamed_ Alice. Her heart beat faster as she found the note attached.

_If you need someone just to listen, call this number. I can't do more without breaking my own promises._

_Love, Alice._

There was a phone number, one with a Forks area code.

Was it possible to be both crushingly disappointed and thoroughly excited at the same time? On the one hand, she felt the crushing blow that this had nothing to do with Edward, after all. On the other, would Alice be bothering with her at all if there wasn't still some hope, even just the tiniest sliver of it?

* * *

Three days passed while she tried to work up the nerve to call the number. She wasn't sure what talking to Alice would do to her. She only saw the Cullens at school, and even then, they avoided her nearly as carefully as she avoided them. It just _hurt_ too much to be near them, seeing them in their blissfully coupled states of existence. On the phone, it might be different. And then again, it might not. Should she risk it?

But on the third night, the little phone rang on its own, without her having to make the choice.

She had no contacts, but she already knew the number by heart. It was the number Alice had written on the note that came with the phone.

Bella stared at it, very unsure what she wanted to do.

In the end, the thought of Charlie popping into her room to ask who was calling — and where and _how_ she had obtained a pink cell phone — was her motivation for answering it.

"Hello?" she asked quietly, voice trembling.

No one answered.

"Who's there?"

A long pause.

"Edward?" she whispered, letting the name rake across her throat like tiny razor blades.

Still no answer.

_Someone just to_ _listen_ , the note had said. _Can't do more..._

Apparently, Alice had meant that literally. This was going to be a one-sided conversation.

Bella's eyes closed. Hope that she hadn't realized she was harboring splintered into a million tiny pieces.

"So Alice, then." It was statement, not question. "It's okay, Alice. I don't mean to sound disappointed. I've missed you too."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	5. Contact

Chapter 5

Edward closed his eyes, rested his head on the wall he leaned back against from his spot on the floor. He pressed the little pink phone more tightly to his ear and didn't dare breathe. Even that small noise would detract from the sound of Bella's voice in his ear.

It hadn't come soon enough.

He had glared at that pink phone for the better part of three days, willing it to ring. If Alice's intention had been to push him the rest of the way over the edge, she'd damn near succeeded. His sister still wasn't taking his calls, so for three days it had been just him and a pink cell phone somehow connected to Bella, one that refused to ring. Alice's note had said to answer it because _Bella needed him_. It never said anything about why, or what would happen if he gave in and took action himself.

The seconds had ticked by. _Slowly_. Had something happened? Was Bella hurt? _What the hell was going on?_

Finally, when he simply couldn't take it anymore, he went into the contacts and ran his thumb over that name he still desperately hoped to one day make reality. He stared at it for a few moments, considering. Then he hit 'call' before he could talk himself out of it. Come what may.

The rush of relief at hearing her voice — _safe_ , at the very least — was what drove him to stop pacing back and forth, to slide down the wall and sit on the floor instead. Vampires shouldn't get weak in the knees, but tell that to his.

He only barely remembered Alice's caution to not say a word. He was only there to listen, and apparently Bella thought he was Alice.

"I'm sorry I didn't call." Bella was speaking again, inexplicably apologizing. "I don't blame you for anything, Alice. I know it's my fault that you're all separated from him. I know you all miss him too. I just can't... I can't even look at any of you. It reminds me too much of...of him."

_Torture_. Staying silent as Bella blamed herself for any part of this, when all blame rightfully lay on his own shoulders, was almost more than he could bear.

Her obvious unwillingness to say his name was quite possibly worse.

"It hurts, Alice. I miss him so much. I don't even have a picture of him. Sometimes it's like...like it was all just a dream."

He flinched, hard. That last statement hurt more than it had any right to. Wasn't that what he had told his family he wanted? For the memory of him to fade for her? He had lied to himself, nearly as badly as he lied to her.

"But then he's everywhere I look. So I can't forget him, either. Even when I wish I could."

She wished she could forget him? He deserved this. He _did_ , he told himself mercilessly. If nothing else, maybe this would help Bella somehow. Alice must have thought it would help, and he'd decided long ago he'd be anything Bella needed him to be. So if helping Bella was the most remote possibility, he would hold that phone in his ear and keep his mouth shut if it killed him. Which it might, if she said anything else like that.

The silence that followed was brutally long. Then Bella sighed, and he relaxed shoulders he hadn't even realized had tensed. She was still there.

"I'm glad you called, Alice. I really am. I just don't know what else there is to say. There's just nothing else for me without him."

Something uneasy curled in his gut. He didn't like the sound of that. He was the one supposed to be feeling empty and hopeless. He was the one for whom the pain would never dim, who would feel it in a thousand years just as fresh and just as sharp as the first moment he left. Bella was human, and it had been months. Shouldn't time slowly be starting to heal her?

A horrific new possibility occurred to him: Bella wouldn't actually harm herself, would she?

Would she?

When the line went dead without another word, he felt more empty and panicked than he had before he called.

* * *

It was a very long three days following their first "conversation". He wanted _his_ phone to ring. He hoped against hope that Bella would take advantage of what Alice was trying to give her, that she would call him, that she would call to talk out her feelings some more — even if she thought he was Alice, damn it. He didn't want to push, but he desperately wanted a better feel for what was going on with her, and Alice was still maintaining radio silence.

After three days, he was done waiting. He picked up that little pink phone and dialed.

He didn't get what he expected.

Talking to "Alice" about him had at least accomplished one thing: it had pushed Bella into the second stage of grief, finally.

She was angry.

At him.

"Hi, Alice. Is that you?"

There was a long pause, then a frustrated sigh.

"I know you can't tell me and I think I know why. He made me promise things too. I know it's you. I just...part of me still hoped it was... you know...him."

He'd never realized just how much he liked hearing Bella say his name. He hated her newfound reticence to do so immensely. At this rate, he was going to develop an identity complex.

She waited so long to speak again that he feared she had hung up.

And then it all came pouring out.

"How could he do this to me, Alice? I know he's your brother, but...how could he _do_ this? It's like...like having a hole punched in my chest. I can't breathe. I can't eat. I can't sleep, and when I do, it's one nightmare after another. And the worst part is, he _knows_ that. He was there, in the hospital, when my heart wouldn't beat right unless he was there. He was there when my mom left Charlie again and I freaked out.

"He promised he'd never do anything like that to me. He _promised_. Then he calls to tell me he's gone, and he says he _loves_ me but he's not coming back? Who does that? Whatever you saw happening, it _can't_ be worse than this. How can he _do_ this?"

She cried, angrily. Like her heart would break all over again. Like if he was there, she might actually slap him.

And he sat there silent, hating himself more by the second as he listened to her cry. Because Bella was wrong — it _could_ be worse than this, so much horribly worse, and he knew it.

But apparently Bella didn't know it, which surprised him. When he had called to say goodbye, right after he left Forks, she had tried to convince him he wouldn't hurt her. He had just assumed his family had told her everything, but apparently her knowledge was limited to the fact that one of Alice's visions caused his absence. She didn't know the details. Which meant he had overreacted terribly in the way he cut her off and hung up without a proper goodbye. It made his heart ache thinking of what she must have thought of him, of that being their last contact.

"I'm sorry, Alice," she gulped, eventually. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I need...I need a little time. Give me some time, okay? Please don't call back for a while. I don't hate either one of you. But Charlie is ready to send me back to my mom if I keep going like this, and I can't let him do that, so I need time to get myself together."

He held that phone in his hand for a very, very long time after the call abruptly ended, wondering if there was any way back from where they were.

* * *

He forced himself to give her the time she requested. He waited two more weeks to call again, until he couldn't take it one second longer, when the pain of waiting to hear her voice became more crushing than the inevitability of the damage her words would do him.

He only made it that far because Alice, at the very least, was taking his calls again, now that her plan had been revealed and he had willingly gone along with it. So thanks to Alice, he at least knew Bella was safe, physically.

And Alice was encouraged. Bella had not only started taking her lunch tray and going to quietly sit with her old friends, instead of by herself, but Alice had also seen her nibbling at a few bites of her food here and there. She was trying, although whether it had anything to do with getting some things off her chest or if it was because she just didn't want Charlie sending her away from Forks was unclear.

Alice felt more optimistic about that than he did. Alice's theory was that Bella's soul felt the connection to her mate right through the phone line, regardless of what her head believed about who was on the other end. As much as Edward dearly wanted to believe that was true, he was skeptical. Alice hadn't heard the anger in Bella's voice that he had heard. He wasn't sure Bella could even forgive him, much less find comfort in his presence on the phone.

So when he finally called again two weeks later, he was braced for the worst — and completely stunned when she picked up the phone on the third ring, happy and excited.

"Alice! I _saw_ him!"

It was lucky he'd had the foresight to press the mute button that day. She'd have heard his sudden sharp intake of breath as fear gripped him.

_She'd seen him?_ Had he been wrong all along? Was there another attacker out there after all, an exact duplicate of him? It still seemed impossible, but impossible or not, Forks seemed far, far too many miles away at that moment.

Her next words clarified, allowed him to breathe freely again, but they were only slightly less terrifying.

"I have to be in danger for it to work. But I _see_ him then, Alice. He talks to me, tells me to stop. When I'm safe again, he vanishes. What do you think that means? Am I crazy?"

He wasn't sure if _she_ was or not, but she was pushing _him_ closer to it by the second.

Bella putting herself in danger. _Intentionally_. To get a glimpse of him. He was going to have a talk with Alice the second Bella hung up. A strongly worded one.

Bella's tone turned embarrassed, a little sheepish.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that. I don't know if you'd tell him or not." She scoffed, a tiny, sad little sound. "I don't even know if he'd care."

His eyes shut. _God_ , _Bella..._

Her voice strengthened. She sounded angry again.

"But you know what? It doesn't matter. I know what I promised him, Alice, but he broke his promises too. All of them. And it was so _easy_ for him. Maybe this connection or this bond or whatever it is went away for him, and that's fine. But I still feel it just as strong as before, and it's _killing_ me. I have no idea how to break it because nobody ever bothered to tell me, so I have no choice. If danger is what it takes to get a glimpse of him and stop the pain for even one second...then that's what I'll find."

He was dangerously close to revealing himself, to calling her out for endangering herself — to pleading with her to just say his damn name, even _once._

But she wasn't done. She took a deep breath and her tone calmed to something approaching normal.

"I have a plan how to do it. I'm not trying to kill myself, Alice. I wouldn't do that to Charlie. I'm going to need a mechanic to help me, but I know who to ask. I think — I think it will work. I'm actually about to go there now, but call again soon, okay? This really helps."

If he'd known that was the last time he'd hear her voice for another three months, that she'd stop answering the phone when he called because she was never home to hear it ring, he might have made a different decision about staying silent and letting her end that call.

* * *

_Three months later..._

Alice had been a vampire for a long time. She had eternity to go.

Eternity was a drop in the freaking bucket compared to the past seven months. More specifically, the past _three_ months, ever since Bella started showing signs of life again, only to immediately begin spending all of her time at La Push.

That was also, not coincidentally, around the same time that Alice had a vision of her sitting on her bed one night and staring at that little pink phone for a long time, her expression unreadable, before abruptly turning it off and shoving it in her sock drawer.

Alice still hadn't told Edward that Jacob Black was a big part of the reason Bella stopped answering the phone. She only told him that Bella seemed to be doing a little better. It was the best she could do to protect him. At least maybe he believed he had done something to help his mate, even if he was completely crushed to lose that small amount of contact with her.

Alice, on the other hand, was legitimately considering strangling Bella.

It was a lot like having the worst babysitting job on earth, except minus the naughty toddler. In its place, she had a heartbroken 18-year-old girl, one who wasn't exactly suicidal but still nearly managed to off herself on the regular, including a newfound penchant for motorcycles and hanging with werewolves. Werewolves, incidentally, that completely blinded Alice's vision.

Oh, and did she mention that Victoria kept popping up everywhere for the past three months? She'd barely seen Jasper — or Emmett either, for that matter — because they spent half their time chasing Victoria off. Except it was weird, because it was almost like Victoria didn't really _want_ to get hold of Bella.

Alice could nail down neither Victoria's decisions nor her motivations for her odd behavior, and that greatly added to her frustration. There was something _else_ , something she just couldn't pinpoint. Something that kept changing, almost intentionally.

Edward better not be spending all his fortune while he was gone, because he owed them all _so_ damn much.

Things would be so much easier if Carlisle would have just let her choose from one of a few easy options:

(A) Chain Bella up in their basement.

(B) Drag Edward's ass back kicking and screaming, if necessary, from the hellhole he was wallowing in.

or (C) Change Bella herself, then send _her_ to find Edward and kick his ass.

But _nooooo_ , Carlisle still stood firm on his no-interference policy. They could jump in only on their side of the border, and only to keep Bella alive, if that's what you called the shellshocked, empty husk of a girl that was left.

Of course, Bella didn't _always_ look like an empty husk. There was some color in her cheeks, some days, when she came back from her ill-advised outings with _him._ The dog. That stinky mutt. Jacob Black.

Watching Bella dance on the jagged edge of falling for a _werewolf_ , even if it was just a rebound, was sickening. Her brother was an _idiot_ , and if he wasn't careful, he was going to lose the love of his existence for good. One way or another.

Personal sun. _Gag._ If the real sun smelled anything like Jacob Black, it could do them all a favor and just burn out now.

But most frustratingly, Alice's stupid vision of the future hadn't changed. Not for even one single, solitary little instant. She'd watched Edward holding down a screaming, crying Bella in her mind's eye so many times in the last seven months that she wanted to scrub her brain with bleach.

What was even _less_ fun, if that was possible, was Edward's daily check-in with her to see if that fact had changed. He still somehow managed to sound hopeful every time, even seven months later. If she had to destroy him one more time by telling him that the future still stubbornly insisted he was a violent rapist, she was going to smash her phone and burn it, no matter how much it had cost. She might take the designer cover off first, though.

He didn't even try to ask her about Bella, not anymore. He'd made that mistake for the last time right after Bella started going to La Push, right after she stopped taking his calls. Alice had panicked. She didn't have the heart to tell him the truth, so instead he'd got an earful: if he intended to drop her in his family's collective lap to care for, instead of doing it himself, then he didn't get details anymore. Period.

She'd sounded sincerely angry. He must have bought it. He quit asking, and she quit volunteering.

So he didn't know about Bella's close call in their meadow, about her giving them all the slip after school one day to track it down, the meadow they were all sworn to keep her away from. There had been a vampire there, one none of them knew — a tall, slender, dark-haired, red-eyed vampire who had been standing within feet of Bella, talking to her. When she had that vision, and then it abruptly went blank, Alice nearly had a heart attack. Yes, dead heart and all. Because she had known there was absolutely no way any of them could get there in time.

There had been wolves nearby, fortunately — perhaps the only time Alice ever intended to consider their presence a _good_ thing, even if it had interfered with her sight. The unknown vampire left without incident, and a very shaken Bella hightailed it out of the woods shortly after. That was very nearly _not_ her only vampire encounter of the day, because it had taken every bit of restraint Alice possessed not to go to Bella's house and _shake_ her.

Edward also didn't know about Victoria prowling around outside Bella's house constantly, nor the pack of mutts chasing the redheaded vampire all over the place, at least whenever Emmett and Jasper weren't chasing her off themselves.

She never told him about Bella jumping on the back of some random loser's motorcycle in Port Angeles to hear his voice, although she was sorely tempted. She sure as hell didn't tell him about all the stitches in Bella's forehead from falling off a motorcycle with Jacob Black, stitches Carlisle himself had put in her head in the ER, all while Bella studiously avoided his eyes and lied her ass off about how she got them. Tripping over tools in Jacob's garage. _Please_.

But three months into this Jacob madness, enough was enough. Alice finally had to make an exception. Edward deserved to know that he had the last thing she'd ever expected him to have when it came to Bella: competition. So she finally sucked it up and told him everything she knew about Bella and the mutt. In great detail. And she did it without mincing words, hoping that if nothing else, maybe jealousy would drive him to get off his butt and come reclaim his mate.

It had the opposite effect. He got super quiet for a long time, which encouraged her, at least until he started quietly spouting some utter _bullshit_ about Bella moving on being what he had hoped for her.

When Alice pushed, he just tried to convince them both — but mostly himself — that maybe jealousy would have been the impetus for his attack on her if he stayed, which Alice wisely pointed out would have never been an issue in the first place _if he was there to freaking keep them apart in the first place_.

It was a lot like arguing the plot holes in a bad time-travel movie. So she got off that particular merry-go-round, right then and there, because both it and her brother were starting to piss her off.

But not half as bad as Jacob Black.

* * *

If the first four months were bad, the following three were nearly Edward's undoing. Having regained contact with Bella, only to lose it again, was heartbreaking.

Knowing full well that there was something Alice wasn't telling him made him even more anxious.

He suspected the truth, of course. It was the reason he let Alice believe she had intimidated him into not asking questions anymore. In reality, he wasn't sure he wanted answers.

He had known it was only a matter of time before the long line of suitors interested in Bella began knocking at her door again.

It was also only a matter of time until she opened it to one of them.

He knew that. He understood it. He even accepted it, as best he could.

It still hurt, more than any pain he'd experienced in his 110 years.

So he wasn't terribly surprised when Alice finally explained to him why Bella had stopped answering the little pink phone three months ago. She was too busy, spending all of her time with Jacob Black. He was a little surprised to learn that Jacob was the one who had won out. He wouldn't have chosen a wolf for her, although to be fair, he wouldn't have chosen anyone aside from himself. It was just that wolves were an extra danger that Bella didn't need. Of course, Bella choosing the most dangerous option was hardly surprising either.

What _did_ surprise him, a few days after Alice told him everything, was when his pink phone started ringing.

He'd kept it charged, just in case. It hadn't rung even before Jacob Black. Every phone contact they'd had, he was the one to initiate it. There was no reason to believe she would reach out now.

But it was ringing, and his dead heart felt like it jumped in his chest.

The caller ID, Alice's optimistic entry in his contacts, taunted him.

_Mrs. Bella Swan Cullen._

If Alice still thought that was a possibility, she hadn't mentioned it lately. He bitterly wondered if that meant he would eventually need to change it to Mrs. Bella Swan Black. The image of Bella in a white dress, her hand in Jacob's, hit him with all the force of a freight train. He could tell himself all the noble things he wanted. The truth was that he'd never be able to handle the idea of Bella with someone else.

He accepted the call, pressed the phone to his ear, closed his eyes and waited.

"Alice?" Bella asked tentatively. "Are you there?"

He nearly slipped. His control hung by a thread. He hadn't remembered to hit the mute button. He swiveled the little phone against his ear so the mouthpiece pointed upward, and he willed himself to hold his tongue.

"I'm sorry I missed your calls. I don't know if you're mad at me or not. But I was thinking about you today. I wanted to tell you about my friend Jake. He...makes me feel better."

Listening to his mate, his only reason for living, describe what sounded an awful lot like slowly falling in love with another man — and barely taking a breath for a good half hour while she did so — was certainly the low point of his existence.

* * *

He made it two more days, but he was barely hanging on.

And then it happened.

Deep down, he'd always known it was inevitable.

His endurance had an expiration date, a point where he couldn't take it anymore.

And he'd reached it.

The little pink phone rang. And he knew he wasn't going to be silent for one more minute.

Some part of his mind warned that that was the most dangerous point a man could possibly reach, the point where he started justifying.

He also knew it was a very thin line from making himself known to her, straight to boarding the next plane that would take him to her, closely followed by him dropping to his knees, throwing his arms around her waist and begging her to take him back.

He was going to do it anyway. He couldn't stand one more minute of Bella believing, as she had told "Alice" during that call when she was furious with him, that leaving her had been _easy_ for him. That statement still ate at him. He couldn't stand her valuing herself so little.

Didn't she realize? There was _nothing_ for him without her. Nothing.

She was going to know it in about 30 seconds.

He was lost. Completely and hopelessly. Every noble intention was gone. He was even willing to accept that he wouldn't hurt her, for one simple reason: he'd lived without her for seven months. He could say, with certainty, he would never take any action — even under duress — that could lead to going through that again. Neither his mind nor his body would allow it. Self-preservation.

All he could do was hope that he wasn't too late, that she could forgive him, that the wolf had not become so intricately enmeshed into her life that there was no removing him. He could only hope that she still loved him, that she still hadn't found a way to break the bond between them. Because his would never fade.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the phone. Mrs. Bella Swan Cullen was calling. He held onto that image like a lifeline, more determined than ever to make it reality.

He pressed the button to answer, held the phone to his ear. He held his breath out of habit, waited for her voice to wash over him like a breath of fresh air.

"Alice, it's me. I wish you could talk to me. Things are bad again. It's Jacob. He won't speak to me anymore and I don't know why. I don't know what to do, Alice. I can't survive this without Jake."

She sounded miserable and it broke his heart all over again. He _wanted_ Jacob out of her life. So why did he also want to break his bones for hurting her?

And then a realization hit him. Jacob may have hurt her too, but Bella was still able to say his name. She didn't sound pained at the very thought.

That meant something. He was almost certain of it.

He couldn't wait one more second.

"Bella..." He breathed it like a prayer, the word he'd held in through hours of silent listening.

He heard her suck in air sharply. She hadn't expected him to speak. Hadn't expected _him_ , period.

" _Edward_?"

His name. _Finally._

"It's me, Bella. I..." He trailed off, having no idea what to say to her. He hadn't planned. "It's been me all along."

"Please don't hang up," she begged then, her voice trembling. "Please."

"I'm not. I —" And then the truth came tumbling out. All he could do was fall, hope she would save him. "Bella, I can't do this anymore."

He heard the tears in her voice. "Then come back. Edward...please."

Unbidden, the crystal clear memory of Alice's vision sprang vividly to the forefront of his mind. It gutted him all over again, especially with her soft voice in his ear. She was so fragile, so breakable, so _trusting._ What the hell was he doing? How had he been so weak?

_"No._ Don't do that. We can talk, Bella, but tell me to stay away. _Please."_

"Edward..."

After months of not hearing it, his name on her tongue again was overloading his senses.

"You _have_ to. Tell me not to come and I won't. You're the only one I'll listen to. You don't understand."

It was silent for a few moments. He was trying to bring himself to hang up the phone, trying to find the will to do the right thing.

Then his entire world stopped.

The sudden whoosh of Bella's breath, a harsh inhalation of shocked surprise — one that sounded more panicked than he'd heard from her even when her life was in mortal danger — commanded all of his attention.

"Bella? What is it?"

"Edward...is this really you?" She was whispering. She sounded confused. Maybe even a little scared.

"Yes, of course." Something very uneasy took up residence in the pit of his gut. "Why?"

"Um...where are you right now?"

A cold fist of terror started working its way around his heart. He didn't even consider lying, concealing the truth. There was something about her tone...

"I'm in Brazil. _Why_ , Bella? Answer me."

She answered his stern command with words that stabbed him straight through with utter terror.

"Because I see you out the window, standing in my yard. But you don't have a phone in your hand."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	6. Terror

Chapter 6 - Terror

_"Because I see you out the window, standing in my yard. But you don't have a phone in your hand."_

If Edward had a beating heart in his chest, it would have stopped in that moment. He slowly rose to his feet from the floor where he sat, clutching that pink phone so tightly he nearly broke it.

He'd got it all wrong. He'd taken the most important gamble of his 100-plus years, and he'd lost. But it was his Bella in danger of paying the price.

His body tensed, instinctively preparing to fight to defend his mate, but he was a fourteen-hour flight away.

"Bella...you have to listen to me."

In stark contrast to the violent flood of emotions filling him, his voice was deadly calm. He had to get through to her. He _had_ to. Her only hope — _his_ only hope — was that his family was still close by, still keeping tabs on her like they'd promised, seven long months later.

"That's _not me_. I need you to scream, Bella. Scream for help, just as loud as you can, and keep screaming until my family comes. Right now. Do you hear me?"

He couldn't tell if she heard him or not, but she certainly didn't do as he ordered. He could already hear her footsteps while he was speaking, running through her house, down the stairs, straight toward danger, maddeningly going to investigate. She thought it was him _._

She wasn't holding the phone to her ear, he realized. She was no longer breathing into it. He could vividly picture it hanging by her side, the Edward she could _hear_ swiftly forgotten in favor of the one she could _see_.

"Bella, stop! Listen to me!" he yelled into the phone, but it was no use.

He heard her wrench her front door open, just before she finally spoke again.

"Edward? Is that you?"

Her voice was muffled. She still wasn't holding the phone in her ear.

She thought she was with _him._

He had to stop this.

He dashed into the bedroom and grabbed his other cell phone from his suitcase, stabbed Emmett's number into the keypad at lightning speed. "Pick up, damn it. Pick _up_ , Emmett."

He still held the pink phone from Alice tightly to his other ear, desperate for any sound from Bella's end.

The one he heard chilled him.

"It's me, love. I'm home."

It was a deep male voice, one that seemed distantly familiar somehow. It mimicked his own tone, his way of speaking — but _i_ _t wasn't his voice._ It wasn't even close.

That wasn't the chilling part. What flooded him with abject terror was the fact that Bella seemed convinced that it _was_ his voice.

"I can't believe you're really here." She sounded hesitant, a little standoffish, definitely not running straight into his arms. It was exactly what he'd pictured in less optimistic versions of his many fantasies about returning home — a hurt, nervous Bella, biting her lip, absurdly insecure and disbelieving that he was really there to stay.

If it was him there, he'd have done whatever it took to convince her, no matter how long it took, until she knew he'd never leave her again.

But it wasn't him.

God help him.

His sweet, trusting Bella.

He wanted to yell for her to run, to scream, to _fight._

But he restrained that very human urge. It was too late for all of that now. He was a predator himself. He knew exactly the instincts that such actions would fire off in the monster currently alone with Bella.

His own predatory instincts were screaming too. If that creature put one goddamn finger on her...

He jumped when Emmett's voicemail suddenly blared out in his other ear, cursing as he stabbed redial. Emmett was _never_ without his phone and wouldn't ignore a second call, not from him, not since he pronounced himself Bella's chief protector in Edward's absence — that much Edward knew.

He turned his primary focus back to what was happening with Bella.

"Come here, Bella. It's okay."

The deep voice had gentled even further, its tone turning hypnotic.

The bastard was _luring_ her in. Dazzling her, as Bella would put it.

Edward knew it for what it was.

A trap. A predator closing in for the kill, and Bella was the prey. He felt ready to burst apart from the inside out, completely helpless.

"Bella!" he yelled into the phone again. "It's not _me!_ _Bella!_ "

"That's it, love," he heard, and he put his hand right through the wall that he reached out to brace himself against. She was _going_ to him. Listening as she handed herself over willingly — believing it was _him_ she trustingly approached — was even worse than hearing her taken away by physical force.

Bella may not have been able to hear Edward's panicked pleas through the phone at her side, but he knew the vampire within feet of her could. The other voice had been getting closer to the phone all the time. Closer to Bella.

"I know you can hear me," Edward pushed out through clenched teeth, his tone deadly. He wasn't talking to Bella anymore. "This is Edward Cullen. If it's me you want, I'll gladly hand myself over. Just let the girl go. Don't hurt her... _please."_

The other vampire only redoubled his efforts, tenderly coaxing.

"Give me your hand, Bella. Just come with me, and I'll explain everything."

He was standing almost right on top of her now. Edward could hear his breathing.

"I'm warning you," Edward lowered his voice even further and dropped all pretense of humanity and civility. One monster communing with another. "She belongs to _me,_ and I'm coming for her. If you harm her in any way, I _will_ find you. I will hunt you, and I will tear you apart, slowly, if it's the last thing I do."

"Here, love...let me see this," was the only reply he heard, followed by a small gasp from Bella.

The line went dead immediately thereafter.

He must have taken her phone from her hand. By force.

Edward stared blindly in front of him, momentarily frozen in horrified silence.

He was going to lose her.

That was when Emmett finally answered the call in Edward's other ear. He sounded slightly breathless, like he'd run a long distance at high speed.

"Sorry, bro, she got away again. How the hell did you know we were chasing her, anyway?"

Edward neither knew nor cared what Emmett was talking about.

"He has her, Em," he choked out, his voice too loud, pitched with terror. "She's with him...right now."

There was a too-long pause as Emmett caught up with his meaning, made the leap from the "she" he had been talking about to the "she" Edward was talking about.

Not Victoria.

Bella.

Somebody had Bella.

Emmett's voice was furious. "Shit... _shit!_ She lured us away on purpose! She has a partner! _Jasper!_ "

The call ended then, leaving Edward reeling as he connected the meaning of Emmett's words.

Victoria. It had to be. Whoever had Bella was working with Victoria.

This _was_ about hurting him. And he had played right into it, leaving Bella in unimaginable danger.

He didn't call Emmett or Jasper back, in defiance of his urgent need to know what was happening. He wouldn't risk jeopardizing their rescue efforts. They would be on their way to his meadow to save Bella, and that was what he wanted.

His hands ripped straight through the sides of the suitcase he'd been living out of for seven months, intent only on grabbing his passport, credit cards, and stack of cash — things that would help get him to her faster. The rest he left.

He'd be on the next flight to anywhere near home, even if it took violence to do it.

* * *

Bella had imagined this moment so many times.

Edward, missing her every bit as much as she missed him, no longer able to stay away from her. Showing up at her window, or at school, or even flying out of the woods and stopping her truck in the middle of the road because he couldn't wait one more minute to be with her again.

Sometimes she imagined herself running into his arms. At others, she imagined him not giving her the chance, swooping in and just capturing her lips with his own without asking, things heating between them quickly.

When she was feeling more realistic, she imagined herself tentative, not quite able to accept the reality of his presence so easily, of the fact that he was really _there_ , that he really still wanted her.

But never in any of those fantasies — not even _once_ — had it felt quite so wrong as it did now.

There he was, standing right in front of her, in her yard. And she felt _nothing._

She had felt more emotion talking on the pink phone to Alice in the past months than she did looking into Edward's eyes now. Not even his devastatingly handsome features affected her. She had been more attracted to the apparitions that talked to her when she endangered herself, warning her to be careful, not to break her promises.

She had even felt more when Jacob Black had taken her hand in his at the movie theater a week ago, the night before he quit talking to her too. At least that had been warm, reassuring, even if it didn't stir her in other ways.

What she really wanted to do at the moment, in all honesty, was run back in her house and slam the door. Every instinct she had was _screaming_ that that was exactly what she should do.

But her eyes and ears disagreed with the rest of her. They told her it was _Edward_ standing there, his hand held out invitingly, his eyes drawing her in and hypnotizing her at the same time that they strangely repelled her. Her feet still steadily made their way toward him, not entirely with her permission to do so.

Her heart was beating out of her chest, but not for the usual reasons when Edward was there.

His voice was gentle enough, the same voice she had yearned to hear for months. She didn't notice the fog that enveloped her ears just before he spoke the first time, beckoning her toward him.

He asked to see her phone, startled her when he decisively removed it from her hand without waiting for an answer. It was only then that she remembered: she had been _talking_ to him on the phone when she first saw him. But she hadn't seen a phone in his hand.

The Bluetooth earpiece she could now see in his ear seemed to answer that question, at least. If this was real and she wasn't dreaming — something she still wasn't too sure about —she could at least stop questioning her sanity. There weren't two Edwards. Only one.

One Edward. One who had clearly lied to her moments before, when he said he was in Brazil, right before she stopped listening because she'd decided to see for herself if that was really him in her yard or if she had finally gone completely crazy.

He obviously was not in Brazil. He must not have meant for her to see him standing out there, watching her.

Edward _lied_ to her.

Was it the first time? She was beginning to believe it likely wasn't. Was _anything_ he had told her true? Any of it? Ever?

Had he been this close by for the whole seven months, fully aware that she was falling apart without him? Pretending to be Alice when he called, listening to the depth of her pain but doing nothing about it?

A sick feeling was building in the pit of her stomach. Deep mistrust of Edward wasn't a thing she was used to. Looking into his eyes at that moment, it was _all_ she felt. In fact, as she looked more closely and what she saw there made her shudder, she wondered how she had ever trusted him at all.

But she had also wanted nothing more than _this_ for seven months, him standing before her, inviting her into his arms. Her entire _life_ had fallen apart without him.

Things were bound to be awkward after so long apart. That was all it was, right?

She was supposed to be his mate — a never-ending bond. They had made commitments, _promises_ , ones that encompassed eternity and felt far more serious than marriage vows.

If he had returned and was willing to honor that, she couldn't throw an eternal commitment away so easily, not based on some flighty feeling or change in her emotions. Renee was _not_ who she wanted to be. She'd decided that very early on in life.

So with trembling fingers, fighting the urge to run away, she cautiously reached out her hand and lay it in his outstretched one.

His smile was the same gentle smile she knew, as he delicately lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The corner of his lip turned up.

"See, now? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She should have melted right where she stood.

She didn't. It felt _wrong._ It was all she could do not to jerk her hand away.

His brows knit together at the way she stiffened, like her reaction threw him off. He tugged lightly on her hand, pulled her closer to him. He studied her for a moment before cupping her face in his hands and softly kissing her, just one gentle kiss that would ordinarily have had her pressing closer, determined to deepen it. She didn't protest when he pulled away.

Since when did Edward's kiss have no effect on her?

"Why are you here?" she asked with a trembling voice, studying him nearly as intently as he studied her. "Why now?"

_Why did you lie_ , but she didn't dare say it. Something about his demeanor gave her pause.

He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, still carefully gauging her reactions. "You're in danger, love. Victoria is coming after us. I need you to come away with me now. I'll explain it all when I get you somewhere safe — somewhere we can be alone."

Fear flooded her at the mention of Victoria. And, truthfully, at least some of it was the thought of being alone with _him_. She tried to take a step back, rather than closer, and his grip on her hand firmed. It firmed a little too much before quickly receding in intensity, like he had just barely caught himself from hurting her.

She stopped pulling away. She really wasn't sure what he would do.

Being scared of Edward was a new feeling, one she didn't like. Even when he kidnapped her before, there had only been one brief moment she truly feared him, when extreme thirst and close proximity, combined with a tense situation where he had to physically stop and silence her to keep her from revealing their location to Charlie and endangering them all, had momentarily overpowered him. It had been over almost as soon as it started, leaving a very distraught Edward at the thought of what he had nearly done.

She had the uncomfortable feeling Edward was about to kidnap her again. And this time, he _did_ scare her _._

"I can't leave," she told him, nervously glancing over her shoulder. _Stall_ , her instincts screamed. Strange that they screamed in Edward's voice, even when he was the threat. "Charlie will be home soon. I have dinner in the oven."

He stepped closer, ran the freezing knuckles of his free hand down the side of her face and kissed her forehead as he smiled at her. "All the more reason to find a place we can be alone." She shivered at that. "Come, love. I'll take you somewhere safe."

She yelped in protest when he abruptly yanked her by the arm and threw her on his back, far less securely and at a different angle than she remembered. She had no choice but to wind her arms around his neck and hold on tight when he took off into the trees, dashing away from her house.

Bella immediately buried her face in his shoulder to stave off the dizziness — she didn't relish the contact, but her instincts told her she needed her senses about her — so she didn't see him crush the little pink phone in his hand and throw it into the tree line at the edge of the woods.

She also didn't see the separate streams of fog he pushed out from his nostrils and blew in varying directions as he ran, creating false scent trails.

* * *

It wasn't until Edward was in the air on a chartered private jet, the fastest option he'd been able to find on short notice, that his phone finally rang.

Alice's number. Just in time, because after the rush of getting to the airport and throwing around cash, promises, and threats like a madman until he secured a flight, he'd finally run out of things he could actually _do_. He was coming apart at the seams.

The pilot already thought he was a lunatic or an escaped murderer, or possibly both. Fortunately, human greed could always be counted upon. For the amount of green he'd been willing to put up in exchange for an immediate, no-questions-asked flight to Seattle, it probably wouldn't have mattered if he was the devil himself.

He stabbed the button to answer Alice's call, with so much force that his finger nearly went through the phone.

"Tell me they found her," he pled by way of answering the phone. He'd never felt so helpless in his life, nor so desperate, pacing back and forth in the luxurious cabin of a private plane with nothing to do but wait, while Bella's precious life hung in the balance and he was too far away to be anything but utterly _useless_ to her.

When he got her back — _if_ he got her back — he was never letting her out of his sight again, he promised himself irrationally. She wanted to watch him hunt? Fine. He'd take her along. From now on, where he went, she went. And vice versa. Because if he believed one thing now, it was that he wasn't even capable of hurting her. He would never do _anything_ that could lead to this feeling again. His monster could go straight to hell, without him.

"Not yet, Edward," was the devastating answer. "I'm so sorry. Emmett and Jasper were just changing shifts outside her house when Victoria lured them away. We had no idea she was working with anyone. She's been doing this for months and nothing ever happened. She must have been getting us complacent about chasing her away and leaving Bella alone, testing our response times."

"The meadow..." he started desperately.

"Is covered," she cut him off. "That's not where he took her." She shifted topics abruptly, which didn't escape Edward's notice. He knew her well. Alice didn't want to discuss the meadow at the moment. "I had a tracker on the phone I gave her, just like on yours. It never even made it out of her yard. I found it crushed, right at the edge of the woods."

His entire body tensed even further. There were too many terrifying implications of that to begin to consider, not when he was still far too many hours away, with a 30-minute refueling stop to endure at some point.

For whatever reason, this creature had gone through great pains to disguise himself as Edward and convince Bella he was Edward. What would have caused him to destroy her phone right in front of her? Had she seen through him, realized it wasn't really Edward and called him on it?

As much as he would have loved to believe that she would just _know_ , Edward couldn't bring himself to hope for that. There was a very real chance that if Bella figured it out, her time would be up. _His_ time would be up to find her. No. As much as it pained him, the longer she believed the lie and unknowingly reacted accordingly, the better chance he and his family had of finding her alive.

On the other hand, the things that could be happening to Bella in all that time...at the mercy of an impostor she thought was _him..._

"How did this happen?" he snapped. It wasn't really Alice's fault, and he knew that, but he was scared out of his mind. "How did Victoria get past you?"

Alice snapped right back. "You don't want to go there, Edward. We've all been chasing her off for _months._ Do you have any idea how frustrated I've been, trying to nail down what she was up to? Every time I tried, I couldn't see _anything_ except you attacking Bella. I still didn't connect Victoria to it because there was no reason to. I thought I was losing my sight or that she hadn't decided on a plan yet, but this _was_ her plan all along. I've been seeing the answer since day one. We just didn't recognize it for what it was — none of us, including you."

He dropped his head, scrubbed his hand over his face. Victoria had been there, frighteningly close to Bella, for months? Guilt and shame wracked him. Alice was right. This was all his fault. He'd left Bella alone with _two_ monsters after her. It was unforgivable.

"God, Alice...if he touches her...if he kills her..."

"I know." Alice's voice was soft. "I don't have to see the future to know what you'd do. Carlisle won't let it come to that, okay? He made some calls, set up an arrangement. The wolves are out looking for them too, and Billy Black is helping keep Charlie Swan in the dark. He doesn't even know she's missing yet. It's not the easiest alliance, but we all want the same thing. They care about her too, it seems. We'll find her, Edward."

"Can you see her at all?"

She hesitated, chose her words a little too carefully. "There's nothing I can tell you right now. Just trust me, okay? We'll _find_ her."

And then Alice was gone, leaving him to his own terrifying interpretations of why he clearly wasn't being told the whole truth.

* * *

To Bella, it seemed like a very, very long time before the dizzying sensation of flying finally came to an end. Edward had never run so far with her before, and she hadn't remembered it being quite _this_ terrifying. Dizzying speeds and fears of hitting trees aside, she'd always at least felt secure and comfortable on his back. He'd made sure of it.

Not this time. The hard planes of his body and the awkward angle she rested against him had become uncomfortable some time earlier. Her ribs hurt, she was out of breath, and her legs were going to sleep.

She also had the sense that she was a long, long way from home, with no one the wiser. That thought made her nervous to the point she thought she would be sick. He hadn't said a word to her since they left her yard, not even when she asked him where they were going. It did nothing to inspire calm.

But he did slow, eventually, and she looked up to see a small, neat cabin emerging, well hidden in a circular clearing, with trees all around and a long bumpy driveway disappearing into the woods. A small, older model red SUV sat in front of the house, not at all the type of flashy vehicle she normally associated with the Cullens. Neatly tended flowerbeds framed the cozy porch.

"Where are we?" she asked, trembling a little as he set her down inside the clearing, a short way from the house. Her voice was a mess. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Whose house is this?"

Just for a split second, she thought she saw something moving around his nostrils as he turned to face her, some kind of...vapor? And it was coming straight at her. But that was ridiculous. She was starting to become paranoid.

"It's mine," he replied, closing in on her without warning and capturing her lips, his hand grabbing the back of her neck roughly, pulling her in.

She tried to return the surprisingly aggressive kiss, at least as best as she could when Edward was very clearly the one calling the shots. His tongue swept in, dominating hers as his hands gripped her head and held her still, barely giving her the chance to do anything but go along for the ride.

She _wanted_ this. Didn't she? Her hands went to his chest, fisted his t-shirt for just the briefest of moments, before she just couldn't lie to herself anymore and she did something she had never done.

Wrenching her face away from his lips, she pushed him back from her, hard. Or tried to.

"Edward, _stop_ ," she heard herself say when he came at her again, her voice sounding panicked even to her own ears. She couldn't budge him.

When he abruptly let her go and met her eyes, doing nothing to steady her when she nearly lost her balance in the process, she was chilled to the bone by what she saw.

Anger. No, not anger.

Rage _._ Fury.

_Malice._

For just a second, one terrifying second, she wondered if he was going to strike her. Or possibly something worse.

It disappeared as quickly as she thought she saw it, replaced by a soft, sheepish smile.

She doubted herself instantly. She was letting her imagination run away with her. It was _Edward_. He wouldn't hurt her. He certainly wouldn't force her into anything, and God, how could she even _think_ that he was about to hit her?

He reached out a suddenly gentle hand to cup her cheek, hesitating at her slight flinch away from him. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to overstep."

Conflicted didn't begin to describe how she felt. She didn't want to push Edward away. She didn't want him closer, either. At least not without some explanations.

"I'm sorry," she echoed, staring at his shirt and trying to stop the tears filling up her eyes. "It's just...you've been gone a long time."

He pressed cool lips to her forehead, and she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to stay still. Why did his touch make her skin crawl? Nothing about any of it felt right. She _hated_ this.

"Let's go inside," he urged her, taking hold of her hand. "We're staying here until morning. We have all the time in the world to get reacquainted."

His suggestive tone didn't sound nearly so appealing as it would have seven months before. He felt like a complete stranger.

"We need to talk," she stalled, surprised by the strength of her own insistence and the depth of hurt and anger that was evident in her voice. She looked up to see if he noticed. "You still haven't told me where you've been and why you left."

There it was again...that quick flash of barely restrained anger. He hid it quickly.

"Of course, love. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just come inside, where you can be more comfortable. It's getting late."

She'd noticed. It was almost twilight, and the soon-to-come darkness only made her all the more anxious to be back home with Charlie. She bit her lip, considering her options, only to realize that she wasn't really sure she had any.

"Okay," she agreed finally, managing to force a small smile, and let him pull her by the hand toward the porch.

Something inside the little red SUV caught her eye as they walked past it, glinting in the last rays of evening sun. When she looked closer, her heart dropped into her stomach and her feet nearly pulled up short, causing her to stumble against Edward, who again did little to steady her.

A little pink glass heart hung from the rearview mirror. And it said "Princess" on it.

* * *

There were certain things she noticed within moments of first setting foot inside the cabin door and letting Edward lead her the short distance through the kitchen into the living room.

The feminine furniture and curtains inside the tidy little cabin, for one.

The clean dishes in the dish drain, as though they'd recently been washed...which would also mean they had been _used._

The nails in the bare walls, places where it looked as though pictures had once hung.

As he pulled her down to sit on the couch beside him — far too close, because his hand still firmly kept hold of hers and he sat with his thigh pressed up against hers — she noticed the presence of dog hair on the couches. She'd seen no other indications of an animal's presence: no food bowl in the kitchen, no dog bed in the living room. But a dog had been there, and recently.

Vampires didn't keep pets, she was relatively certain.

She preferred words, for the moment, as opposed to any other type of re-acquaintance he had in mind, so she asked him questions about his absence, trying to keep him talking. She watched closely but saw no more signs of the anger she had felt from him before. He stayed calm, and his answers made logical sense, at least. He'd left to keep her safe from Victoria, he claimed, believing that Victoria would follow _him_ to seek her revenge if she believed he no longer cared for Bella.

She didn't ask about what Carlisle had told her, that he had left town because he believed _he_ was the danger to her. She was a little afraid to contradict him. The rage she had seen on his face earlier wasn't something she ever wanted to see again, not directed at her, and certainly not when she was alone with him.

He professed his love repeatedly. He maintained that everything he had done was with her safety in mind. He put every effort into charming her, as blatantly as she had ever seen.

She didn't believe a word. Not one single word.

There were other things she noticed too, things that didn't add up.

There was food in the kitchen, for one. Human food. She found that out when she claimed hunger as soon as the conversation dried up, mostly as a way of keeping him at arm's length, a way to give herself time to slow the situation down and _think_. She had hoped he would just take her home because of it. Instead, he led her to the kitchen and said she could have anything she liked, answering her questioning look by claiming the food was there for her.

That didn't explain the milk that had been expired for two weeks and the little containers of leftovers in the fridge. It didn't explain why none of the boxes of cereal she found on top of the refrigerator were the ones he should have known she preferred, the ones Edward had sat in her kitchen and watched her eat during countless breakfasts before he left.

It also didn't explain the monogrammed pink Yeti cup she found in one of the cabinets, the one with the initials L.M. She couldn't help the way she momentarily froze as her hand landed on it, a little chill running through her at the implication.

She felt his eyes on her after that, studying her intently as she continued searching the cabinets for a bowl and spoon, before mechanically pouring herself a bowl of dry cereal. His scrutiny was unnerving. She ate as slowly as she could.

He seemed momentarily confused again afterward, when she asked for a "human moment" just as he approached her again. He covered it well and caught up with her meaning quickly, but there was no doubt in her mind what she had seen. He didn't remember that phrase.

She used a portion of her few minutes alone in the bathroom to quietly search the medicine cabinet and the drawers beneath the sink, not even sure what she was looking for. They were empty but not completely clean — like they had been hastily cleared of their contents

But as she closed the last drawer a little too firmly in her frustration, she heard something move. Yanking the drawer back open, she bent to look.

There, in the very back of the drawer, hiding from sight, was a small bottle. Her heart raced as she stuck her arm in and retrieved it.

It was a prescription bottle, one that had rolled to the very back of the drawer and avoided detection when the drawer was emptied.

The name on it was Lacey Matthews.

_L.M._ Just like the cup in the kitchen.

All things considered, a terrible suspicion formed in her mind — one that she thought best to keep to herself.

Edward had said it was his house and then managed to artfully evade any of her later questions on that topic. But this house clearly belonged to a human. A _female_ human. One who was nowhere in sight, and neither was her dog.

There were only two possible conclusions she could think of, both of them impossible to reconcile with the Edward she remembered. But she was starting to wonder if that Edward had been a fantasy of her own infatuation? Because she had no problem believing either possibility of the Edward she'd just spent the past few hours keeping at arm's length.

Possibility one, Edward had been living there with another human girl, which might explain his absence for the past seven months and why he lied about where he had been.

Possibility two, Edward had killed the owner of this house and taken it for his own.

She couldn't ignore the sickening possibility, either, that it was _both_. Her blood had always appealed to him so strongly. Was it outside the realm of possibility that his senses had been captured by someone even _more_ appealing, both in scent and looks? She didn't find _that_ part difficult to believe. She had always questioned why someone who looked like him would waste his time with someone like her.

Maybe he had only come back to her because he had lost the battle with his thirst for his newer, more potent obsession.

Maybe he had just abandoned his struggle with his thirst completely and she was next.

Maybe — and it was a blindingly terrifying thought — there had been hundreds before her. Maybe this was a game he had played for decades.

That thought had never, not even once crossed her mind in all the months she spent with him before, but maybe she had just never opened her eyes and looked carefully. Because after the past six hours, it seemed very, very believable.

She was running out of ways to avoid his touch. And it was very, very clear what he wanted from her in this cabin.

So when she emerged from the bathroom and he reached for her again, she kissed him as convincingly as she could before asking if they could talk more in the morning, because if he wasn't taking her home, she was exhausted and she needed to sleep for a while. Her heart pounded in her chest, not entirely sure he was going to let her get away with that.

But he did. The clenching of his jaw was the only indication this time that he was angry with her.

* * *

He was going to kill her. Albert told Victoria as much when he stepped outside hours later to take her call, glad for the opportunity to drop the sickeningly patient boyfriend act for a while.

The fact that he fully intended to kill Bella Swan wasn't a new revelation. He had _always_ intended to kill her when he was done using her for his revenge.

He always killed his victims. Always. Watching the life leave their eyes was part of the thrill for him.

Just like the last one, the leggy brunette whose cabin they currently occupied. She hadn't had a boyfriend, and her parents were dead, he'd learned when he chatted her up in a local coffee shop. She was a writer, holed up in her cabin, churning out her next insipid romance novel. No one was going to come looking anytime soon, including the yapping beast whose neck he snapped minutes after he was done with her.

She had almost been too easy, with no one for him to imitate. But she looked enough like Bella Swan to be at least somewhat acceptable practice, so he'd rehearsed his Edward Cullen persona on her. It was an effective one. She'd screamed that name a few times in ecstasy before she screamed it in terror and begged him to stop. Before she died like the rest. He didn't even bother showing her his real face.

Yes, killing them was always the plan. It was just that he was probably going to kill this one, Bella Swan, by accident, before he did half of what he wanted to do to her — simply because she was pissing him off.

He wasn't used to seeing suspicion in his victims' eyes, at least not until the final moments before he revealed his true intentions. He was far too good at what he did. He was far too good at earning their trust, imitating their lovers and improving upon them, becoming the very embodiment of their secret wishes, the changes they wished for.

He wasn't used to being doubted.

And he sure as fuck wasn't used to the simpering bitches questioning him during his seduction phase. Telling him _no._ That wasn't how this part was supposed to go.

But this girl had him off balance, had him making stupid mistakes. From the very first moment, she seemed to sense that he wasn't everything he projected himself to be, and it was throwing him off his game.

"I went into this blind," he raged to Victoria under the cover of darkness, trying to keep his voice low enough that the little bitch in the house wouldn't overhear their call. He wouldn't put it past her to eavesdrop, since he knew full well that she wasn't really asleep, like she'd been pretending to be for the past several hours to avoid him. Not only could he hear her heartbeat and breathing, which were enough to know she was wide awake — he could also _smell_ her fear. It might not be part of the plan, but it was intoxicating...more than enough to make him want to accelerate his schedule.

"Edward's on his way to Forks," Victoria hissed. "Stick to the plan. We can't blow this now."

"That's going to be difficult if she doesn't trust me," he pushed out, letting his anger show. "I warned you about this. I told you we should have waited until he returned, until I had a chance to _watch_. I've never even seen them together. Are you even certain about the nature of their relationship?"

He was used to stalking, watching, knowing the relationship between his intended prey and her significant other. All he knew of Edward firsthand was that the self-righteous bastard had failed to even kill him properly, sparking the torturous nine-day transformation that resulted from being left for dead with barely any blood left and only a small amount of venom to begin the change. He knew that part well. And he knew that he _hated_ him for it.

Of course, Edward's threats through Bella's phone, back in her yard, made it clear enough that he considered the human girl to be _his_ mate.

But from the reactions he was getting from Bella, Albert was truly beginning to wonder if it was one-sided, if Edward was perhaps more like himself than he'd have given him credit for. Did Bella have feelings for Edward Cullen at all, or had she been an _unwilling_ mate? Because she certainly didn't seem open to his advances when he approached her tenderly, romantically. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way...

Victoria soothed him, assured him that wasn't the case, that the girl was just as enamored of Edward as she was of him. Their plan depended on it, after all. He needed to play the patient, loving boyfriend for just a little while longer.

That might be easier said than done.

It had been difficult for Albert to maintain control when he heard Edward's despised voice for the first time in decades, especially daring to _threaten_ him through the phone. He'd considered throwing the girl on the ground right then and there, outside her house, making Edward Cullen _listen_ as he defiled his mate and then murdered her; make him listen to her screaming his name as she begged for mercy.

But he couldn't do that. It would be over too fast. It just wasn't _enough_. Edward deserved more — much more.

He deserved to get back a mate who could barely stand to look at him.

He deserved to know his enemy was coming for her again — and that he couldn't possibly protect her forever.

He deserved to know _exactly_ what would happen to her when he failed, and at whose hand.

And when he had suffered enough, when Albert and Victoria inevitably took her from him again, he deserved to know that his mate hated him when she drew her last painful breath.

Albert was going to give him all of those things.

He just had to be patient. There would be a day for having his way with Bella Swan and then killing her. A _different_ day.

For the present, he just needed to keep control. His false trails would be wearing off by dawn. Edward's coven-mates would find his real trail soon enough afterward, and he would have Bella in the woods, ready for them to find her at exactly the right moment — in exactly the position he wanted them to be found in.

All he had to do was restrain himself, keep his dick in his pants and do _just enough_ to terrorize her, to destroy her trust in Edward Cullen.

And then Edward could have her back...at least for a little while.

* * *

She jumped at every sound, every little pop and crack the cabin made during the night. There was no way he didn't know she was only pretending to be asleep. She expected Edward to burst in on her any moment — and she didn't even want to think about what might happen next.

Never in her life had she been more relieved than when Edward didn't follow her into the small bedroom he pointed out to her. He'd just kissed her on top of the head and wished her sweet dreams. Somehow, it had almost sounded like a threat.

She'd closed the door behind her, resisting the temptation to lock it because he would definitely hear that and it wouldn't protect her anyway. She didn't want to risk making him angry again.

She hadn't seen him since, although she occasionally heard movement just outside her door. It froze her into terrified silence every time, her breathing ragged.

The little bedroom was stripped just as bare of anything personal as the kitchen and bathroom. She knew because she opened the drawers and closets before she climbed into the bed, her heart pounding and her eyes flicking back and forth to the door. She held her breath the whole time.

She found nothing.

Hours passed, agonizing hours of trying to lie still and not move around. Tears leaked into the pillow where she muffled her sobs. She didn't have a watch, and there was no clock. She knew it had to be getting close to dawn. It was still dark outside, other than a small dimly lit area close to the porch, which her window faced.

When the front door suddenly slammed, hard enough that she actually yelped in fear, she couldn't take it anymore. She rose up on her knees in the bed, peeking out the window.

He was outside, apparently on the phone. She could see him pacing back and forth in the darkness, gesturing angrily. She quickly ducked back down.

Her breathing increased at the thought of that phone, wondering if she could find a way to get her hands on it without him knowing — at least until she realized there was no one she could call. Jacob was just a 16-year-old kid who wasn't even speaking to her anymore. Involving him would only get him killed, even if she managed to get hold of him. Charlie could bring the entire Forks police force and still have no chance to save her from a vampire. And Alice? Carlisle? Her trust in the entire Cullen family felt shattered. For all she knew, they were in on it. How was she to know they hadn't been covering for Edward for decades?

It was a terrifying thought, one so mistrustful she'd never have thought herself capable of it.

But she'd looked in his eyes all evening and tried not to admit it to herself. And she was finally ready to put a name to what she saw there.

Evil.

There was no doubt of it. The only question was how she had ever looked into his eyes and _not_ seen it.

Reality hit her like a lightning bolt. No one was coming to save her. She was on her own. He was still outside. And she might not get a better chance...especially considering what was likely to happen if she stuck around until morning.

He couldn't hear her thoughts. She just had to get far enough away. If she could get through the woods and find the main road, flag down a passing car, she might have a chance.

Decision made, she sat up and quickly slid her feet into her shoes. As quietly as she could, she opened the bedroom door and made her way to the back door she had spotted earlier when she went to the bathroom. Her fingers trembled as she struggled with the lock, but moments later, the cool night air hit her and she started to run.

There was no light on the rear side of the house. She could barely make out the tree line in the moonlight, running as fast as her feet would carry her, across the clearing and into the woods.

She was only a few hundred feet into the trees when it happened. Her feet hit something, something large. She toppled forward, landing with enough force to knock the wind out of her.

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the moonlight, enough to see that she had come to rest on a tarp — a very lumpy one, covering a large mound of...something.

She should have got up and kept running.

She didn't. She had the sick feeling she had just found what she'd been looking for all night, and she _needed_ to know. She was breathing hard as her fingers skimmed across to find the edge of the tarp, and after only a moment's hesitation, she yanked it back.

The scream that ripped out of her throat was probably going to be her undoing. She couldn't even bring herself to care.

* * *

"You killed her."

She should never have said it. She knew that.

She knew _he_ was standing right behind her, so close that his fingertips nearly brushed her hair. She shuddered but stayed where she was, utterly shocked, still kneeling on the ground, staring at the jumbled-up pile of belongings tossed like garbage into the woods and hidden, covered up.

A picture frame dangled from her numb fingers, the glass broken from the lack of care with which it had been dumped.

Her eyes could just make out the image of a beautiful, young, dark-haired woman and her dog, a golden retriever.

There were other frames, other pictures. The same smiling girl with an older couple that must be her parents. A much younger one of her, standing beside the same red SUV parked in the driveway, victoriously holding up the keys. A group picture with what must be friends.

Bella stared at them in horror, burning them into her memory. She knew the woman's _name_ , from the prescription bottle inside her house.

Lacey Matthews. L.M.

She had owned a pink monogrammed Yeti cup and frilly curtains. She had kept her first car for years, and she loved her dog. Somebody had called her Princess, someone she loved enough to have a reminder of it hanging from her rearview mirror.

It wasn't much, but Bella wasn't going to forget any of it. If she lived, she wasn't going to forget.

She looked down again at the horrifying mess before her. Clothes were strewn everywhere in an undignified heap, coats and hats and jeans, fuzzy slippers and strappy sandals — the sad remnants of a life cut short, all wallowing forgotten in the dirt. Everything that had identified her, dumped and forgotten.

Erased.

Toiletries and hairbrushes and even a box of tampons looked like it had just been dumped into the pile with everything else.

There was a dog bowl and leash in the trash heap. The dog was probably dead too, she realized.

She nearly screamed again when he touched her shoulder. But his tone was gentle, placating.

"Bella, it's not what you think. Come here." Strong hands effortlessly pulled her to her feet, turned her to face him, gripping her arms more tightly when she shrunk away from him, staring up into eyes she didn't even recognize.

She still had a chance. She could pretend. Let him sweet-talk her and act like she believed him.

But then she said it.

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying.

It was _impossible_. But she knew it was true the second it left her lips.

"You're not him."

She should have been terrified. Instead, the relief she felt nearly buckled her knees.

_Her_ Edward wasn't a murderer. He wasn't a liar. Whatever was about to happen to her, at least she would die knowing that much.

The face in front of her had turned murderous. Edward's face.

But not Edward.

"What did you just say to me?" he snarled, intimidating.

Her voice only grew stronger. Defiant. In stark contrast to the tear rolling down her cheek.

"You're. Not. Him."

He tightened his grip on her arms with enough force to bruise and yanked her up against him hard, his nose millimeters from hers. She could feel the icy chill of his breath, matching the coldness in his voice. Edward's voice, but not. "Oh really? Then who the fuck am I, little girl?"

She trembled. But she didn't break.

"It doesn't matter. He's going to kill you if you touch me again."

She heard the angry growl before he grabbed her and the ground rushed up to meet her back, just before her shirt was ripped down the middle with enough force to lift her up off the ground again, slamming her back into it when the material gave. She tried desperately to back away across the ground, but his weight pinned her to the earth, straddling her hips.

She stared up at him in terror as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, grasping her throat with one hand. She clawed at his fingers, trying to get air.

"He tried that once already."

* * *

Fifteen grueling, tortured hours after he had to stand by helplessly and listen as Bella was kidnapped by a monster with his own face, Edward was finally almost home, on final approach to Sea-Tac. It was all he could do not to kick the side wall out of the plane and jump. Every muscle in his body was tensed, desperate for the chance to finally _do_ something to help.

He knew Alice was waiting for him at the airport before his plane even landed. He could hear her already blocking him as soon as he came into range, studiously translating...something. He didn't care to bother identifying it. He just wanted to get _around_ it.

The fact that she felt the need to hide her thoughts terrified him in a way nothing else had yet. His last update had been several hours earlier.

But the news wasn't what he expected. Alice was waiting at the empty airport terminal where he disembarked faster than he should have. She pushed the limits of believable human speed too, when she ran to meet him and grabbed him in a fierce hug.

"She's alive, Edward. The boys tracked her down less than an hour ago. We have her."

Relief washed over him, nearly buckling his knees in the unexpected intensity of it. He'd been braced for the worst. He hadn't dared hope for this.

But Alice was still carefully blocking him, and that did nothing to set him further at ease. What it did do was scare the hell out of him.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	7. Uncertainty

Chapter 7

He didn't mince words as he pushed his sister away, disentangling himself from her embrace. "Tell me everything." He didn't mean verbally. "Starting with how badly she's hurt."

Alice sighed, doubled down on keeping him out of her head. "Nothing life threatening, at least. It's not as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough. I'm sorry."

_Bad enough._ Those words gutted him, despite the fact that he'd already suspected as much, solely based on the fact that it was Alice who had been sent to intercept him — the most proficient member of his family at keeping him out, aside from Carlisle, whom he fervently hoped was the one currently looking after Bella.

No one else was currently within his range, not even Esme — who, after seven months away from her son, would normally have knocked the rest of them over, without remorse, to get to him first.

So there was something else his family didn't want him to know yet — something bad.

Something aside from the details of what had already happened to Bella, because he could see that Alice intended to tell him that much, at least. What could possibly be worse than that?

Alice gave him a very brief verbal synopsis, one she'd rehearsed, apparently. She managed not to picture anything mentally, give anything away that she was still concealing.

Jacob Black had very recently phased for the first time, Edward learned, a truly chilling prospect considering the dog's relationship with Bella. Still, pieces clicked together in his mind. Hadn't Bella said something, just before he revealed himself on the phone, about Jacob cutting off contact with her? If that was the mutt's reasoning, he had to admit a grudging respect. Giving Bella up to keep her safe was a misery he understood well.

But the wolves had been requested by Carlisle to assist in the search, and that meant Jacob Black too. By sheer coincidence, it was Jacob himself, in wolf form, who had followed the right trail and tracked down Bella and her attacker near a cabin far out in the forest, roughly five seconds before Jasper and Emmett arrived on the scene from the opposite direction.

Jacob had believed without question what his eyes and nose told him, that it was Edward Cullen on top of Bella, holding her down on the ground, his hands and mouth all over her as she fought like a wildcat to free herself.

Naturally, Jacob had gone on the attack, without waiting for backup, causing Edward's doppelganger to flee. But Jacob hadn't taken kindly to the arrival of two more Cullens appearing beside Bella, just as he left her to give chase, so he had turned back to snap at Emmett and Jasper.

Emmett took exception to that. Then Jacob's backup caught up to him, in the form of Paul, and things got ugly.

Bella's attacker got away during the scuffle that ensued, as the wolves and vampires went after each other instead of who they should have been chasing. That continued until a terrified Bella tried to run away on her own, finally snapping everybody out of it.

Not that that knowledge — or his utter, complete _fury_ over the way it was handled — would do Edward any good.

He ground his teeth. Hard.

"You're still hiding something from me. Tell me the whole truth, damn it."

One possible reason for Alice's reticence to talk weighed heavily on his mind, and he was done waiting for her to volunteer information. It was a question he both feared and _needed_ to have answered. He remembered every second of the vision that had sent him away, horrifically and vividly.

"Did he... Alice, did he..."

_Did he rape her._

He still couldn't say it. Not about Bella, he couldn't.

The pleading look in his eyes said it for him. Alice grabbed his hand sympathetically, but her mind was a steel wall. "No...in the strictest sense of what you're asking, no, but she went through a lot. I won't lie to you, Edward. It was close. Too close."

He felt like his heart literally fell to the ground and shattered. His soft, delicate, warm and caring Bella.

"Define close," he growled, pulling his hand away like Alice's skin burned him. Then he softened his tone, sensing her reluctance to risk upsetting him further when he was already thrumming with violent intensity. "I need to know."

Alice hesitated before nodding her agreement. He still wasn't prepared for what he heard. Mercifully, she did it quickly and briefly, like ripping off a bandage.

"His fingers. He was holding her down, touching her all over, but he wasn't in a hurry. He was fully dressed, so we're pretty sure he didn't rape her. Jasper got the sense that he wanted to toy with her, terrorize her, that doing so was important to him for some reason. He said he seemed almost _delighted_ when they showed up, like he was waiting for them, like their arrival at exactly that point was what he wanted."

Edward balled his fingers into fists so tight his hands shook, reeling as he figured it out.

This wasn't over. Not even close.

"It _was_ what they wanted," he managed through his fury. "This was just a warning shot, one meant to get me back here. They plan to go after her again, right under my nose. And for some reason, they're confident they'll succeed."

Alice started feverishly translating in her head again, which wasn't reassuring. He was getting too close to the truth, apparently.

It was too much. Edward's body vibrated with rage. He wanted to do _violence_. He wanted to find the lowlife who dared violate his Bella and _end_ him.

_All_ of him wanted that.

The vampire, his monster, wanted to hunt, to stalk, to track down his enemy and slowly rip off any vile part that had touched Bella, then _feed_ it to him.

The human wanted to just throw punches until the bastard's face split open.

He was going to do _all_ of that.

But Bella needed to come first. And to make sure she was taken care of properly, he needed to know every detail, regardless of what it would do to him.

_Too close_ , Alice had said. _Touching her all over._

He briefly closed his eyes to steel himself. When he opened them, he managed to keep his voice soft, his question clinical.

"How far did it go? Was there...digital penetration?"

_Was he going to be ripping off that bastard's fingers before or after his other appendages..._

Alice winced. "Most likely. She hasn't volunteered details yet, but my gut says yes. Contact, at the very least. I'm so sorry, Edward."

The muscles in his jaw worked. "And he was me? The entire time?"

The way Alice looked away was answer enough.

The hot fury he'd been holding in check so he could get information finally consumed him, rage that needed a target. It was easier than facing the utter devastation that threatened to swallow him whole.

Did _Bella_ believe it was him when it happened? Did she still? He couldn't even face the thought, much less ask the question.

Yes, rage was easier. _Vengeance_ was a lot goddamn easier.

He only had one more question he intended to put voice to, and his teeth were bared before he even began talking.

"Who is he, Alice? Who the _fuck_ is he?" His venom rose, his fists clenched. He _needed_ to kill.

"We don't know," she told him honestly. "He's working with Victoria, obviously, but we don't understand _why_ he's helping her or even how he knows you. None of us recognize his scent, and it seems he can manipulate it somehow, leave a fog of false scent trails that take time to dissipate and reveal his true path with his true scent. There were at least three distinct trails, originally, all of them yours, until the fog faded and revealed which trail was real. That's why it took all night to find them. It's a perfect duplication. I'd have believed you were there myself."

He processed that quickly, and it was terrifying. His enemies couldn't be allowed to get their hands on Bella again. With that kind of head start, there was a very real risk that he might not be able to catch up to them, despite his speed.

"Where's Bella now?" His muscles coiled, desperate to run, to get to his mate and protect her personally.

"She's at our house. Emmett carried her straight to the hospital, with Jacob on his heels, but we can protect her better at home. This guy might be able to walk into the hospital and impersonate any one of us, Carlisle included. So Carlisle checked her vitals in his office, then smuggled her out and took her home."

"Good. I'll drive," he said by way of reply, his feet already moving.

But Alice grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned back to face her impatiently, not really prepared for the crushing blow that was about to come.

"Edward...you should know that Jacob Black is there with her. He insisted and so did she. Honestly, they both freaked out a little bit about going to our house, but Carlisle just wasn't taking any chances with her until you could get here and decide how you want to handle things. He insisted on it and somehow convinced Jacob she was safer there for now, but the mutt doesn't plan on leaving her alone. And to be honest, she doesn't want him to. I know that's not what you want to hear."

Quite honestly, the Jacob part barely registered. But an aching dread filled Edward when Alice said Bella didn't want to be at his house. There was only one thing he could take from that.

She was scared of him.

And she had every right to be, considering. But be that as it may, the only thing that scared _him_ more than not putting eyes on Bella immediately was the prospect of watching her recoil in fear when she saw his face. His near immediate mental image of her reaching out to Jacob Black for protection — from _him —_ made him feel genuinely physically ill.

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling very... _displaced_ , like he belonged nowhere. He took a deep breath...and changed course.

He couldn't do it. Not to her, and not to himself.

There was another way he could help her, though, without inflicting himself on her. His monster was going to get what it wanted, even if his heart didn't.

"I see. Thank you for telling me, Alice." His tone had gone completely formal. "You mentioned a trail with his true scent. Where is that, exactly?"

Alice stared at him. "This is _not_ what I meant. Don't you think you should go to Bella first? Let her know _you're_ here for her too?"

_"Where_ , Alice?" he growled, fear and anger boiling over in equal measure. No, he definitely couldn't face Bella yet. He had disturbingly little control over his rage at what had been done to her. He'd scare her half to death, even if she _wasn't_ already terrified of him. "If I'm going to find this guy and make her safe again, I need to know his scent. His real scent."

Alice stared at him disgustedly, finally shook her head. "If that's what you want, there's an easier way than going to the scene. Carlisle has her clothes bagged in the safe in his office at the hospital...well, what's left of them." She winced sympathetically. "There's plenty of his scent there. Trust me."

Edward nodded his agreement curtly. "Thank you."

"You're not even going to _try_ to see her?" Alice persisted, as he turned his back and walked away from her.

After all he'd just heard, what could possibly make Alice or anyone else believe that Bella _wanted_ to see him?

"Not until I know she wants me to," he said softly, not turning back to look. He knew Alice heard him.

* * *

This had been a bad idea, he realized soon after.

The first scent that assaulted his nostrils when he entered his father's office at the hospital — alone, because Alice hadn't followed him — was Bella's blood.

It didn't have quite the same effect as normal, although his venom still rose.

The effect it had was rage. Pure, blinding, murderous rage.

Someone had hurt her. Made her bleed. Someone who disguised their vile self as _him_ when they did it.

He picked up the other vampire's scent immediately, committed it to memory, but it wasn't one he knew. And yet something about it seemed almost _familiar,_ just like the voice on the phone. Not a vampire he'd met, because he would remember that. He couldn't place it. That fact only infuriated him further.

He'd come looking for his enemy's scent on Bella's clothes. But it was the clothes themselves that were nearly his undoing.

There was only one intact piece of clothing in the entire bag, and he recognized it, both in appearance and lingering scent. It didn't belong to Bella. One of Emmett's hoodies. It would have swallowed her whole. He must have taken it off and put it on her after they found her, and it was easy enough to see why.

Alice had left out some details.

Bella's pretty blue shirt was ripped to shreds, right down the middle, to the point he knew it would have covered nothing. Her bra was no better, violently torn in half. He couldn't bring himself to linger on that. _Touched her all over_ , Alice had said, and his fists clenched at the thought.

But it was the last items out of the bag, her jeans and panties, that made him put his fist straight through Carlisle's heavy oak desk, splitting it right down the middle.

He hadn't fully grasped why Alice seemed so certain she'd been sexually assaulted, _touched —_ and he hadn't been prepared to.

He knew now.

The button on her jeans was missing, the zipper destroyed. The entire front was violently ripped in two, from waist to crotch. The legs were ripped, stained with dirt, just like the back of her shirt.

He'd thrown her on the ground.

Her panties — her delicate panties, her last boundary against her even more delicate flesh — were in two pieces.

Edward growled furiously, far louder than he should dare in a public building, as he slammed his fist back into the ruined desk over and over, pulverizing it beneath his heavy blows.

That bastard was going to die. Slowly and very goddamn painfully. He was going to take his fucking _time_.

He was still taking his wrath out on the heavy antique furniture, so he didn't hear his father enter his office, didn't even register his presence, his voice calling his name, until strong arms grabbed him and pulled him into an embrace.

He angrily tried to push away, but Carlisle held on tight. Weakened by grief, emotion, and starvation, Edward quickly stopped resisting.

Carlisle held him tightly. "She's alive, son. She's alive, and she's going to need you. Focus on _her_. We're going to find him for you, I promise you that. If I have to track him down myself, we'll find him for you both."

He dropped his head to Carlisle's shoulder and clung to the only father he'd known for a century, shuddering and shaking with mingled pain and fury.

* * *

"She's asking for you."

Edward sat on the floor in Carlisle's office some time later, leaned against the wall, his face buried in his hands as he tried to prepare himself for what he knew he needed to do next.

Carlisle had gone back home to check on Bella as soon as Edward calmed enough to allow it. He had only left her in the first place because Alice came to relieve him, giving him a heads-up where Edward was headed.

The very second he realized that, Edward got it together. Carlisle left soon afterward, at his urging.

Edward now looked up at the approach of Alice, with her arms crossed.

She didn't have to worry. He'd already made up his mind that he was going to Bella the second he had himself back under control, just as soon as he knew he could face her and appear at least outwardly calm, without flying into a vengeful rage at what had been done to her. But at Alice's words, his long-dead heart still felt like it dropped in his chest at the thought of walking into that room.

Because he was really going to do this. He was going to see Bella, face to face, for the first time in seven months.

And then he would _know_.

He would know if Bella thought it was him who attacked her, who tried to _rape_ her, for God's sake.

He'd know if she blamed him, regardless of who she thought hurt her.

He'd know all of that the second he looked into her eyes. And the thought terrified him.

Alice fixed him with a no-nonsense glare. "I said she's asking for you, and so help me God, you're going to her if I have to drag you all the way there myself. Don't think I can't do it."

But he'd already made up his mind to do exactly that, long before Alice entered the room. So after scrubbing his hands over his face one more time, he sprang to his feet.

And near staggered.

Alice huffed impatiently, narrowing her eyes as she finally took a better look at him than she had at the airport. She looked utterly appalled. "Correction. I'm taking you for a quick hunt first, and you're going to _like_ it. Then you're going to take a shower and put on whatever I hand you to wear, and you're going to like that too. _Then_ you're going to see Bella, mutt or no mutt."

"I'm fine," he told her flatly. "I'm going to her now."

"When's the last time you hunted?"

"Irrelevant. I won't hurt her."

He should have figured that out seven months ago, he raged inwardly as he started for the door.

Alice blocked his path.

"Or showered?"

The deadly growl in his chest was a warning. Alice growled right back, and he gave it up and sighed.

"She's waiting for me, Alice."

"She's been doing that for seven months. What's a few more hours?"

His eyes closed, all the fight draining out of him. "I need to know. I need _her_ to know that I...that I'd never..."

Her hand on his arm made him flinch. "She knows that, Edward. Even if part of her has forgotten it right now, she _knows_. If you're going now, I'll go with you. Then you promise to let me take you hunting and to get cleaned up. Agreed?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat that shouldn't even be there, and nodded.

Then he ran purposely toward his house with Alice at his side, toward the girl he'd left behind seven long months ago, in a futile effort to preserve her from this very fate.

* * *

It wasn't until he got close enough to his house to hear Bella's heartbeat that he felt like he could breathe again. He was so intently focused on locating it that he barely noticed anything else.

At least until he stopped right in his tracks in the edge of the woods outside his house, because someone else's thoughts were _screaming_ at him from inside.

He really hadn't needed to get his first glimpse of Bella through Jacob Black's thoughts.

She was in Edward's room on his couch — definitely not where he'd expected to find her, although certainly the location in the house that offered her the most privacy, more so than the living room. She was upright, propped up against one armrest, legs stretched out across the seat. Her hair was damp, like she had showered recently. She wore what looked like one of his t-shirts and pairs of sweatpants he'd left behind, which also made sense, even if it momentarily threw him. It wasn't like she had been expecting this and packed an overnight bag or anything, and his sweats were certainly more comfortable than anything in Alice's closet. There was a blanket from the hospital loosely draped across her legs.

Most of his focus was drawn to her face. Her lip was split. There were tear tracks down her cheeks, and a bruise just starting to form on her cheekbone. Edward's fists clenched at the sight.

She wasn't alone. Jacob Black knelt protectively on the floor in front of her, holding her hand. Edward knew that because Jacob's focus shifted continually between her tiny, fragile hand in his large one, back to her frightened face, awed at the way she clung to him and watched him like she was afraid he might disappear any second.

She needn't have worried. Jacob wasn't going anywhere. Edward could see that for himself.

Their closeness was like a punch to the gut. Bella had apparently forgiven Jacob, at least, for _his_ disappearing act, and this wasn't some meaningless rebound relationship as he had hoped. The two had developed a real connection in his absence. Bella relied on him; _trusted_ him. Which was probably more than he could say for himself at the moment.

The boy's thoughts might have been obnoxiously loud, but to his annoyance, Edward couldn't find much there that he could really disagree with. Protectiveness, mostly. A healthy dose of adoration. Grief over what had happened to her, self-flagellation that he hadn't been there to stop it sooner. And Jacob was on high alert for anything that might threaten Bella, relishing the idea of putting an end to anything that did.

It wasn't like Edward could argue with any of that.

He already knew enough to know that no matter how much he would like to rip his rival for Bella's affections into shreds, natural enemy or not, he owed him everything. Bella had only survived the past few months because of him. She'd told him as much herself, on the phone. Or she had told "Alice", rather.

Jacob's focus changed abruptly when he picked up Alice's and Edward's scents outside. He started obsessively watching the bedroom door, looking for Edward, making the prospect of visiting Bella much more difficult. Jacob was young, short on control. The very sight of Edward could cause him to phase, far too close to her. Especially after what he had seen earlier.

"Cozy, isn't it?" The irritated voice came from beside him. Edward forced himself to focus on Alice, who had a knowing look on her face as she watched him listening in on Jacob Black's mind.

He'd all but forgotten she was there. Her tone was sarcastic, conveying her irritation with the Jacob situation pretty clearly.

"Welcome to my world for the last few months," Alice sniped. "I'm going to be so happy when you put the dog out...for good."

She had more faith than he did, at the moment, that he'd be able to get rid of Jacob. Not physically, because he knew he could do that. He'd _love_ to do that. Emotionally, he wasn't so sure Bella would _let_ him put the dog out.

Like she had heard that thought, Alice hesitated as she turned back to him one last time. "Edward...you know that Bella's been through a lot, right? She's not herself right now. And they're...close."

"I know," he cut Alice off softly. He had some understanding of what he faced, what Bella was likely to go through in the aftermath of what happened to her. "I love her, Alice. I'm not giving up on her. No matter what."

If he was expecting an argument, he was wrong. Alice smiled approvingly. "Good."

* * *

If Edward had suspected before that there was something his family still hid from him, he was completely sure of it when he realized no one else was in the house aside from Bella, Jacob, and Carlisle.

No Esme. No Rosalie. Still no Jasper or Emmett. None of them were anywhere within his range.

He was being avoided to protect a secret. It set him even more on edge than he already was. But at the moment, it wasn't his top priority. Seeing Bella was.

Alice went in first. To prepare Bella, she said. He couldn't linger on that thought, the idea that Bella had to be prepared to see him. It just hurt way too damn much.

In reality, Jacob needed to be prepared just as much as Bella did. Edward wasn't setting foot in that door until Jacob was under control.

He listened intently to every word spoken in his room, of course. "Preparing Bella" generally consisted of making sure she and Jacob both understood that the Edward who was about to walk in wasn't the same one who had thrown her down in the woods and ripped her clothes off. Of course, Alice didn't put it that way. It didn't change the fact that that was the way Edward heard it.

The only thing Bella said was "Okay", which told him exactly zero about her state of mind.

He waited until he deemed Jacob calm enough, then gently knocked on his own bedroom door.

It was Alice who called out for him to come in.

Jacob now stood between the door and the couch, his stance defensive. His thoughts were a harsh challenge to just try removing him. He had no intention of budging from his place between the two of them. He didn't seem worried about Alice behind him, though, who perched on the arm of the couch behind Bella, her hand on Bella's shoulder.

"That's close enough, bloodsucker," Jacob spit. _If he goes near her, I'm not responsible for what I'll do._

Jacob and his bitter thoughts may as well have not been there. It was Bella that Edward focused on the second he stepped in the door and froze into place.

Her eyes were cautious, although they met his steadily enough. She spoke first.

"Edward? Is it...is it you?" She didn't shrink away, exactly, but her fingers nervously twisted the blanket she had now pulled securely up above her chest. Her eyes searched his face wildly, ran over his entire form, like she was looking for something.

He could only nod, not trusting his voice, as his eyes drank her in. Neither Jacob's thoughts nor Alice's verbal descriptions had given him the full picture, and it was a shock.

Far too much of her creamy skin was turning black and blue. Freshly blossoming finger bruises dotted her wrists and forearms, encircling them. Those same angry circles also marred the soft skin of her biceps where they peeked out from beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt she wore. Marks he knew were from hands identical to _his_.

God, he'd had enough of bruises around Bella's wrists after what he'd done to her himself when he kidnapped her. It wasn't something he had ever wanted to see again. They hadn't faded for _weeks_ the last time, flooding him with guilt every time he saw her. Those had been ligature marks, from her struggles after he'd tied her up when he had to leave her to hunt.

That had been bad enough. These would match his hands and fingers exactly, like _he_ had done that to her, left her bruised and marked.

His eyes drifted back to the angry bruise blossoming on her cheekbone, her split lip, and he actually thought he would be sick. Bella had been looking up at what she believed to be _him_ , had seen _his_ hands coming at her when they were inflicted.

Jacob wasn't helping. He knew exactly what Edward was looking at; he was thinking about her injuries too. More specifically, he was hoping that what he'd heard was true, that Edward Cullen really _could_ read minds. He wanted Edward to be subjected to _everything_ Jacob had seen when he first found Bella, including the angry red marks that extended to areas of her body currently not visible — areas where there were surely even more bruises forming.

Like on her thighs. The insides of them. Where they'd very obviously been pried and held apart with a great deal of force, as she fought to keep them closed.

Edward got the picture, loud and clear. Jacob's mind was a vivid one.

He clamped down hard on the utter fury threatening to consume him, the growl building in his chest. This wasn't the place for it.

There was going to be a place for it, though. Soon. He promised himself that. Promised it to her too, silently, in his own heart. He would find that bastard, and he would make him pay. He would make him pay _dearly._ His fists clenched at his sides.

"It's really him," Alice was assuring Bella gently, and that snapped him out of it. He realized he'd been standing there motionlessly, staring, making her more uncomfortable. "I'll prove it," Alice told her. "Watch this."

Alice turned her attention toward him, making a ludicrous face in his direction to indicate she was throwing her thoughts his way. Unnecessary of course, but if the theatrics helped calm Bella, he'd gladly go along.

_You owe me so much. A Porsche is a lovely way to say thank you. And for the love of God, Edward, would you try to smile or blink or something?_

Gratitude for Alice flooded him at the same time that he cursed himself for his own stupidity. He'd been so hung up on Bella's injuries and Jacob's thoughts that he never considered Bella might want proof of which version of him was looming at her door.

"Of course, Alice. What color do you want?" he replied aloud to Alice's thoughts.

His voice was raspy with emotion, but the tiny smile he managed was at least somewhat real. Alice more than earned her Porsche just for finding a way to reassure Bella, who was looking over her shoulder at Alice intently. It didn't escape his notice how her shoulders slightly relaxed when Alice nodded at her that he'd given the correct response.

He made a mental note to instruct his family to use the same trick to test him every time he'd been out of their sight, especially in Bella's presence. If his family ever showed back up, he thought wryly. The entire situation was surreal.

"Yellow," Alice beamed at him before turning back to Bella. "See? It's him. Edward's going to buy me a car."

But Jacob scoffed angrily. He still wasn't completely sold that there _was_ a difference between the two Edwards. The urge to break his jaw surged, but Edward clamped down on that too.

He was going to have to get his anger under control, and soon. Or better yet, exorcise it all on Victoria and her accomplice, when he made them beg for death.

The issue of his identity resolved, Bella was looking at him expectantly now, waiting, and so was Alice.

That was the very moment that the crushing weight of responsibility dropped onto his shoulders like a load of bricks. What the hell was he supposed to do? What the hell was he supposed to _say_?

According to what Alice had told him, even Carlisle intended to defer to how he wanted to handle the situation. Bella was _his_ mate. The responsibility was rightfully his, and he wouldn't have trusted anyone else to take it anyway.

But while standing there, looking into Bella's nervous face, waiting for him to have the right words to _fix_ this, the problem was that he had no answers. He didn't have the first clue what to say or do, especially not when the very sight of him probably made matters worse.

His touch, he feared, would be infinitely worse.

What he really wanted, more than life itself — even more than he wanted to avenge her — was to pull Bella into his arms and just _hold_ her, feel her heart beating against his chest from the safety of his embrace and know that she was safe. If he could, he would just pull her right _inside_ his chest and keep her there forever, protected.

He was fairly certain none of that was an option, not when she still looked a little wary and Jacob oozed outright suspicion. He could ask if she was okay, but _God_ , he could see that for himself. She wasn't even close to okay.

If he were to be truthful with himself, neither was he.

But he was still standing just inside the door, and the only person he had actually spoken to so far was Alice, and that wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"May I come in, Bella?" he asked politely. Too politely. Like he was talking to a complete stranger. The fact that it was his own room he was asking permission to enter just made things even stranger.

"I told you that's close enough," Jacob warned, shifting his weight and tensing, and Edward scanned his thoughts again. At the moment, the boy's focus centered only around keeping control, not phasing in front of Bella unless absolutely necessary. He didn't want her scared of him too.

That "too" was a blow that landed squarely in Edward's gut.

"And I wasn't asking you, Jacob." His anger flared again, but he kept his tone quiet. His eyes never left Bella. When she shuddered, he realized just how menacing he probably looked despite his calm tone. His eyes were pitch black from not having hunted, and he was more than a little disheveled. "I was asking _her_."

"Jacob, it's okay," Bella's soft voice cut in, washing over him. Despite everything, she was intervening on his behalf. It made him want to hold her all the more. He focused on staying put.

Jacob didn't like it, but he stepped aside, his frame tense. It struck Edward just how powerful of a creature Bella truly was, whether she realized it or not. She had both a vampire and a werewolf, both a thousand times stronger than her, yet both completely at her command.

_You do read minds, right? One wrong move, leech. That's all I need. Watch yourself._

Ignoring Jacob and not giving any indication whether he heard him or not, Edward walked carefully closer toward the couch. He relaxed slightly, once he was past Jacob and in between the two of them. At least now if Jacob lost control and phased, he was in a position to protect Bella. He could clear a path for Alice to get her out of the room safely, if necessary. And if the arrogant, reckless mutt lost an appendage or two once Bella was out of sight, well, things happen.

But as he drew closer to Bella, his next problem became instantly clear. Aside from the couch where Bella was stretched out, there was nowhere else in the room to sit. He didn't dare kneel in front of her as Jacob had done, trapping her between himself and the couch. He certainly wasn't about to stand over her either, towering above her, forcing her to look up at him. Especially not when she chewed on her lip harder the closer he got, her fingers nervously twisting in the blanket.

He _hated_ this.

He stopped several feet away, hesitating, and was surprised when she solved his problem herself. Straightening up against the arm of the couch where she leaned, she pulled her legs in and tucked her feet up beneath her, clearing the rest of the couch for him. She winced when she moved, and he tried desperately not to obsess over what hurt and _why_.

"Sorry," she nervously apologized as she shifted, like it had been _rude_ of her not to offer him a spot earlier.

His head was spinning as he quickly sat on the opposite end. He counted it a victory that she was comfortable enough to allow him in the same space. At the same time, his heart ached at the way she tried to make herself as small as possible on the other end, pushing back into the edge farthest from him, partially leaning against Alice, who rubbed her shoulder soothingly from her perch on the armrest.

"Not at all," he replied softly. "Thank you." He had to get past this formality he seemed stuck in, but he was so far out of his comfort zone with her at the moment that he didn't know where to start.

"No, it's your room," she blurted out, seeming uncomfortable about that, picking at the blanket. "I'm sorry. I told them this wasn't necessary."

She thought she was _intruding?_ His problems went deeper than he'd realized if Bella didn't at least understand how very much he wanted her right there where she was — with him. Having her there, in his space, where he could personally keep an eye on her, was one of the only things actually making his life tolerable at the moment.

He tried and failed to catch her eye and he _wouldn't_ presume to touch her, so he put every ounce of tenderness he felt for her into his voice instead.

"No, it's _yours_ , Bella, for as long as you like. You're safe here, I promise."

She looked up at him, finally, and there were tears in her eyes. "Are you staying?" she asked, and bit into her lip as soon as the words were out. Like she hadn't meant to say them. Or like she feared the answer.

He didn't even understand the question. Staying in Forks? Staying with her? Staying in his room? And did she want him near her, or did the idea terrify her?

He made a decision, right then and there. He was going to just tell her the truth, at every opportunity, no matter what she asked him. Complete honesty. Hiding things from her hadn't worked out very well for either of them.

His answer to her question would have been the same, regardless of which version she had really been asking: he wasn't leaving unless she ordered him away. Not even then, so long as her safety was at issue, though he could take care of that from a distance, out of sight, if need be.

He could probably find a better way to word that, though. Preferably one that didn't bring up images of him lurking in the shadows, watching.

He kept his tone quiet, very calm. "I'll stay for as long as you ask me to. It's completely up to you."

Everything he thought he knew told him that should have been something that would _help_. So he was blindsided by the reaction he got.

Bella's breath shot out of her like he'd just punched her in the gut, her stricken eyes blinking furiously. Her gaze flew to Jacob, who took a step closer in response, looking just as worried as Edward felt. Bella's hand pressed against her chest like she was having chest pains.

Jacob crossed the room in three strides and knelt on the ground in front of her, just as he had been doing when Edward read his thoughts from outside, and grabbed her hand. He didn't approach her carefully, didn't seem worried about whether she would recoil. It was a privilege Edward envied him.

"What is it, Bells?" Jacob asked, with more tenderness than Edward would have given the boy credit for, had he not heard it himself. "Hey...look at me. What's going on?" Jacob did it calmly, with practiced ease and a smile on his face, like it was a normal occurrence for Bella to look like that. Like soothing her was something he had experience with. And it must have been, because he managed to draw her gaze, her panicked breathing ebbing slightly.

"I should go," she got out, and a tear rolled down her cheek _._ Edward looked on in horror. "I shouldn't be here. I'm going home."

"You can't, Bells," Jacob told her gently, stopping her from getting up.

And Edward's heart sank when he saw in both Jacob's and Alice's thoughts what was coming next.

Alice hadn't told him this part. It hadn't been part of the carefully chosen set of facts in the version he'd heard, probably because it wasn't really the most important thing at that point.

It was about to be.

He wanted to wrench Jacob away from Bella, stop him from telling her, but he wasn't sure of his place.

He still had to try.

"Jacob."

Edward's voice was as calm as he could make it. The boy still started to vibrate with anger at the interruption. He turned in Edward's direction, with his hands still on Bella, and Edward tensed.

"Easy," he warned darkly, and was relieved to see Jacob at least let go of Bella, make a concerted effort to calm himself.

"Perhaps now is not the best time," he pressed after a moment, when Jacob stopped shaking.

_So you CAN hear me,_ Jacob's mind answered. _Good to know_. _But screw you. She has a right to know._

"Why can't I go home?" Bella was asking, her eyes still locked on Jacob. She sounded near panic, and Edward wanted to put his fist right through Jacob's thick skull. "What's going on?"

"There was a fire in your kitchen," Jacob told her, and just as Edward had expected, her eyes widened and she turned completely white.

"I left dinner in the oven," she whispered, and she turned to look at Edward briefly before looking back at Jacob. Anything Edward had planned to say, any comfort he'd wanted to offer, died in his throat.

That wide-eyed look she'd turned on him... was it for support? Or was she seeing the Edward who was to blame for this injustice too, the one who had dragged her away against her will, leaving her house to catch on fire? Was that his fault too, in her eyes? He didn't know, and he wouldn't risk making it worse by opening his mouth.

Jacob had enough to say for them both, apparently.

"It's not your fault, Bells. Charlie's fine. He got called out on an emergency late in the day, so he never made it home before the fire started. Somebody saw the smoke and called 911. They were able to save the rest of the house, but you guys just won't be able to stay there for a while. Charlie's staying at my house with Billy for a few weeks until everything's cleaned up and the kitchen gets rebuilt."

"And I stopped by and talked to Charlie about you staying with me," Alice chimed in right on cue, to Edward's everlasting relief, before Jacob got the chance to make the indecent offer he'd been gearing up for — that Bella could come and stay at his house too. In his room, since Charlie occupied the couch.

Edward dug angry fingers into the armrest beside him, his fingers leaving divots in the leather. He was desperately trying to appear as calm and nonthreatening as possible. But thank God for Alice, because he _would_ have intervened before he allowed Bella to go home with Jacob, his own status in her life notwithstanding.

Jacob _did_ truly care about her. But his absurdly unrealistic thoughts of taking Bella home, holding her in his arms, comforting her, and of that leading to kisses and maybe more in his bedroom, with himself in the role of her hero, were nauseating. How could the boy be so foolish and shortsighted, even given his youth and inexperience?

Edward wanted to pick the pup up by the scruff of his neck, haul him outside and _beat_ some sense and respect into him. And if he tried to put one amorous finger on a traumatized Bella and so much as _startled_ her, Edward wasn't going to restrain that urge.

But for the moment, Bella drew all of his attention again, because she had swung around to face Alice and she looked even paler than she had previously.

Alice had it under control. "Bella? Breathe. Charlie doesn't know anything, okay? You made your wishes on that very clear, and I took care of everything. He thinks the fire was a wiring problem, and he thinks I'm hosting a big sleepover this whole weekend. You still need to call him yourself and 'ask' him, but trust me — he's mostly delighted that you're spending some time with friends, even if it took a fire to get you out of the house and make it happen."

Edward saw Bella partially turn, glance in his general direction out of the corner of her eye before stiffly turning back toward Alice. "You're sure it's okay that I stay here?" she asked quietly.

_Jump in here any time_ , Edward heard in his head from a frustrated Alice, and the sentiment confused him. Alice was the one who had talked to Charlie. How was he supposed to have anything to offer on the subject of what was or was not okay with Charlie Swan?

Alice's thoughts toward him weren't kind when he remained silent, but it didn't affect her tone when she gave up and answered Bella herself. "Bella, we _want_ you here. Right, Edward?"

The question floored him. _That_ was what Bella meant? Whether it was okay with _him_ that she was there?

The fact that he wanted her close was such a given in his own mind that it never occurred to him anyone else might doubt it, least of all Bella. He thought his feelings on that topic were abundantly clear.

He had thought he was doing everything right. He had kept his demeanor, his body language, everything about himself outwardly calm for Bella's benefit since he walked into the room. But judging by the exasperated _look_ Alice threw him over Bella's head — and the way Bella glanced at him with a very unsure expression and then let her gaze drop toward her hands when he took too long to reply — he had overcompensated.

For the first time since he walked into the room, he had some idea of the right thing to say.

"More than anything," he answered simply. His dead heart felt like it flipped over in his chest when Bella's gaze finally came up and locked on him, a tiny spark of hope dawning there. He held onto that eye contact for all he was worth. "Anything I have is yours, Bella, always, including my home. Please stay." He hesitated and then said it anyway. "With me."

He hoped it wasn't too much.

The intensity in his eyes must have been, even if his words weren't. Bella's gaze faltered before fleeing completely, but she nodded her head in agreement as she nervously pushed hair behind her ears and looked back at Jacob. A scowling Jacob.

Edward tried to repress the glow of satisfaction the mutt's unhappiness caused him. This wasn't a pissing contest, he reminded his monster sternly. The stakes were far higher than male pride. Bella needed them both, at the moment. Jacob was currently her go-to for reassurance, as he'd been for months. He would do well to remember that.

"Maybe I could call Charlie now?" Bella asked Jacob, so meekly it almost sounded like she was asking permission. It made Edward bristle. "He'll worry if he doesn't at least hear from me."

But Jacob's brows pulled together in a frown. Her demeanor surprised him too. "Yeah, of course, Bells. Whatever you want. When you're done, I should probably check in with Sam too."

"And I'm taking my brother hunting," Alice announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Carlisle and Jacob will both be here, Bella. There will always be at least two of us here, at all times."

Edward barely heard the last half of that, because Bella was suddenly staring at him with stricken eyes again, open hurt in her expression. She bit her lip so hard he was afraid she'd break the skin.

He had no idea why. Not the beginnings of the hint of the first clue.

Or maybe some part of him did. Because without thinking about it, he offered her a tiny smile that he didn't really feel, one meant to be reassuring. "I'm coming back, Bella. You have my word."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Assumptions

Chapter 8

Being away from the house for the next couple of hours made Edward extremely anxious, even knowing that Carlisle and Jacob were both there and on high alert. Neither of them would allow anything to happen to Bella and he _knew_ that. He still couldn't get back quickly enough, even if hunting was a necessity.

And it _was_ a necessity, although not because he had any concern for his own comfort. He needed his strength for when he found Victoria and her ally.

With that exhilarating thought in mind, he made very short work of the closest herd of deer he could find, savagely glutting himself on more of the animals than he would normally take from one area at a time.

The chance to exercise his predatory senses should have helped, should have taken the edge off. It didn't. It only whetted his monster's appetite for violence all the more.

But he had made a promise to Bella that he was coming back to her as soon as he could, a promise he intended to keep. The hope that at least some small part of her _wanted_ his presence was more addictive than even the thought of shredding her would-be rapist into ribbons. So vengeance was going to have to wait.

He didn't wait for Alice, either, who had ventured further out. The urge to get back to his mate was all-consuming.

But when he approached the house again, the first thing he noticed was Bella's heartrate. It was slow, calm. Too slow. Slower than normal when she slept.

There were also loud snores, but those weren't hers. Her mangy guard dog had fallen asleep on the job, apparently, and it set Edward's teeth on edge. Perhaps a nice bucket of ice water would help revive him...

But Carlisle met him at the front door, putting an unknowing halt to that malicious urge. "You look better, son," he remarked, smiling. At seeing Edward's immediate worried glance up the stairs, he was quick to add, "She's fine. She's sleeping."

Edward recognized that exact heart rhythm. He had heard it before and still didn't like it.

"Yes, but not naturally. What did you give her?"

"The same as I prescribed when she left the hospital last time, after James. In fact, she asked me for them by name. I was a bit surprised to learn she had actually taken them the first time."

Edward frowned. "Yes, all of them. But it's worth mentioning that she hid them from me, and from Charlie Swan as well. I only knew because she slept so deeply the first night that I became concerned and went looking."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "Noted. I gave her a small bottle to keep. Would you prefer I take it back and dispense them myself while she's here?"

He hesitated, mulling it over, pushing down his initial impulse to say _yes, immediately._

At the time that Bella hid her use of the sleeping pills from him, her trust in him had not exactly been riding at an all-time high, to say the least. Renee had just broken Charlie's heart by leaving him for a second time, and it had left an already injured and traumatized Bella reeling, convinced that Edward would eventually do the same to her. Not an unfounded concern, as it turned out, although breaking her heart had certainly never been his intention in leaving. The effect was the same, though.

So he really had no concrete reason to believe she would misuse them.

And yet...

He still had more questions than answers about the extent of what had been done to her. She had been with her abductor for many, many hours. It could be far worse than they all knew. So the idea of her access to the pills when she was dealing with unknown emotional trauma made him even more uneasy than it had the first time.

He had monitored her use of them closely that time, after James, though he hadn't let on that he knew they existed until the night she ran out of them. That was a pretty unforgettable night in general, considering it was also the night Charlie Swan found him in her bed, clutching her in his lap and _desperately_ trying to wake her up from the screaming nightmare that still haunted him — the one where she was screaming and _begging_ him to come to her, to save her.

That night held other memories, too, though. Better ones. It was the night he had verbally claimed his Bella as his mate — and damn near given in to the fiery inferno of possessive lust that made him want to claim her physically, too, while he was at it. It certainly wasn't as though Bella would have protested.

The thought made him wince. He could barely think of such things, at the moment. That night seemed so long ago, and very far away from their current reality.

Forcing his mind back to the present, his answer to Carlisle's offer to take back the pills came down to one thing: despite his uneasiness, he didn't want to rob Bella of the small amount of control Carlisle had offered her. Plus, if he intended to regain her trust, it wasn't really the best time to start coming off like a controlling bastard. So he quelled what he assumed to be just an overprotective instinct.

"Let her keep them. I see no reason to deny her. She didn't abuse them, by any means, and it seemed to help prevent nightmares."

Nightmares. Not something he was looking forward to. Because this time, he feared she wouldn't be screaming _for_ him. She'd be screaming _because_ of him — or at least his face, his body.

Yes. He was definitely letting Bella keep the sleeping pills. Putting that horror off until he could regain some of her trust, hopefully allowing him to be there for her when it started, was fine with him.

"Very well, son," Carlisle answered. "I trust your judgment. By the way, Alice called just before you got here. She's on her way back, and she threatened unpleasant consequences if you do anything aside from take a shower immediately. She said she'll be here to dress you by the time you get out?"

He allowed a small smile, both at that statement and the amused lift of Carlisle's eyebrow, the question in his voice. It was good to be home. He had missed his family more than he realized. But if anyone could make good on the threat of unpleasantness, it would be Alice. Her size was frighteningly deceptive.

"I agreed to a deal, of sorts. She got me in the door to see Bella earlier. In exchange, I agreed to hunt afterward and then shower. And to let her pick my clothes. At least, I _hope_ that's all I agreed to."

Carlisle put his hand on Edward's shoulder. His eyes twinkled. "Never break a deal with Alice. It's good to have you home, son. We'll talk more later."

Impulsively, Edward grabbed Carlisle and hugged him. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of Bella for me. I didn't realize until today how much you all did to protect her."

Carlisle wrapped him in a bear hug that could have rivaled Emmett's strength. "We're a family, Edward, and you and Bella are part of this family. Both of you, as she is still your mate. We protect our own."

If he'd had to look his father in the eye, he might not have been able to say it. As it was, it was barely audible, muttered into Carlisle's shoulder. "I'm not sure she still wants that...wants _me_. I'm not sure she can ever forgive me, for leaving her or even for what _he_ did to her. How can she look at me and not blame me for both?"

Carlisle released him and pulled back, but gripped his shoulder as he looked him in the eye. "I think you may be wrong about that. You didn't see that girl watching for you every second after you and Alice left tonight. I did."

He'd started down this road. He wasn't going back now, even if it meant putting voice to his deepest fear. "Because she wanted me to come back? Or because she was terrified I would?" His voice was still so quiet, even Carlisle might not have heard it if he wasn't standing right there.

Carlisle smiled. "I stopped going to the door to check on her after the first hour, because she looked so disappointed every time she saw me."

The older vampire lowered his voice. "I can only imagine that she's very confused, and yes, it will take her time to adjust to seeing your face again. Reestablishing any physical relationship will require a great deal of care, as I know you've already considered. And then there is the issue of Jacob Black. But despite all of that, she still feels your mate bond, Edward, just as strongly as she did before. I'd stake my reputation on..."

"Carlisle." Edward interrupted the older vampire quietly, his gaze magnetically drawn over his father's shoulder and up the stairs. A jolt of near-electric intensity had just shot through him.

He'd been so intent on their discussion, he hadn't noticed the change in Bella's heartrate. He certainly hadn't noticed the fact that she was standing on the stairs, only a few steps from the top, holding onto the handrail for dear life and staring down at them both, with huge eyes and a completely ashen face.

He had no idea how long she might have been there. Perhaps he shouldn't be so judgmental of Jacob for falling asleep on the job. He wasn't much better. She could have been out the back door and into the forest if she had chosen, alone and unprotected, and he wouldn't have known it.

_I believe this proves my point,_ Carlisle spoke to him with his thoughts when he, too, turned to look. _Remarkable. She must have sensed your presence, Edward, even in a drug-induced sleep. I've never seen the like, certainly not in a human._

Edward would have loved the chance to ponder that, the depth of their connection — because he had sensed her presence, too. It was what made him look up the stairs in the first place.

But Bella was so frighteningly wobbly, likely an effect of the pills, that she had his undivided attention. It took a great deal of restraint not to fly up the steps in less than a second and steady her, grab her, maybe just scoop her right up into his arms and not let go.

Instead, he took a cautious step around Carlisle and toward the stairs, slow even for human speed. His entire body was tensed to spring into action and catch her if she fell, but he forced his feet to freeze into place again when she inhaled sharply and backed one step away from him as he approached. It stung to see her do that, but he stayed at the ready. If she lost her balance, he could still be there before she hit the next step down. He wouldn't let her crack her head open, even if it meant scaring her. His hands flexed at his sides.

"Bella," he said softly, amazed at how reverent his own voice sounded. Could she hear it too? Could she see the way his eyes drank her in like water to a man dying of thirst? Was it too much? It didn't matter. He had concealed his emotions earlier, but with her there unexpectedly in front of him, eyes locked on him and no mutt in sight, he could no more have hidden the swell of emotion bubbling up from his chest than he could have sprouted wings and flown.

" _Please_ be careful, love. Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

For reasons he couldn't fathom, her eyes filled up with tears. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times, wordlessly, like she wanted to say something but just couldn't.

He took another step in her direction, quite without meaning to. It was as close as he got.

A flash of anger crossed her face.

"Leave me alone," she whispered shakily, and then her eyes flicked toward Carlisle, who had just moved forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder beside his son. "Both of you."

Then she abruptly turned around and fled back up the few remaining stairs.

"Bella, wait!" Edward called, and was just about to give chase.

It was pure instinct, one he couldn't control — an automatic response to his mate running from him. Fortunately, Carlisle understood well and saved him from that certain mistake with a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Let her go, son," he said sternly, and it was enough to ground Edward, to make him stop and think before he reacted on instinctive impulse.

His ears still intently followed the sound of her footsteps as they pounded down the hall, followed by the sound of the bathroom door slamming.

The heavy wood door did little to hide the sounds coming from behind it. Bella was hyperventilating. And crying.

He was going to have to break that deal with Alice after all. His shower was going to have to wait.

* * *

Bella put her back up against the heavy wood door she had just slammed and tried to get control of her breathing...and her tears. She didn't want _him_ to hear them.

Not after what she fully believed she had just overheard.

But quiet was a losing battle, as she pressed her open palms back against the door behind her, trying to ground herself. Her heart was racing at an alarming rate, and all she wanted to do was keep _running._ She wanted to run until there was nothing chasing her, until she came to a place where nobody knew her name, where nobody had even _heard_ of vampires or wolves or most especially Isabella Marie Swan.

She had jolted awake from sleep only a few short minutes before, dragging herself up from the depths of a very deep slumber, feeling drawn to the downstairs of the Cullen home. She felt strangely compelled to check and see if Edward had returned yet.

It shouldn't even have mattered to her, and she _knew_ that. He had been perfectly clear earlier, after she finally worked up the nerve to ask for him — and Alice apparently _forced_ him to come — that his presence in her life again was only temporary, that he wouldn't be staying past the point she strictly needed him to.

_"I'll stay for as long as you ask me to. It's completely up to you."_

It hurt just to think about his indifferently calm, formal words and blank demeanor, from the moment he walked into the room until the moment Alice noticeably had to prompt him to invite her to stay.

It was the last thing she had expected. She hadn't forgotten the way he had been when James went after her, his fear for her and the savage protectiveness. He had _kidnapped_ her to keep her safe, abandoned his family to take her away, laser focused on protecting _her_ at all costs, damn the consequences. It was part of the reason, quite honestly, she had been nervous about seeing him.

So there were several possible reactions she might have expected from an Edward who had just walked in and saw her entire body bruised and shaking, who had undoubtedly been told of the things that had been _done_ to her just a few hours prior.

And calm and indifference were not on that list.

She could barely wrap her mind around it, but the evidence was right there in front of her: he didn't even _care._

So when he only intended to stay as long as she needed him, how could she tell him that she would never _not_ need him?

She couldn't.

It was mortifying enough to know that he had seen her pained reaction to his flatly delivered, chivalrous words. But she couldn't hide it. The hole in her heart, the one he'd punched through her chest when he abruptly left her to fend for herself seven months before, felt like it actually _exploded_. If Jacob hadn't been there, she would have descended into a full-fledged panic attack.

And yet some part of her — the part, at least, that rationally understood it wasn't really Edward who had assaulted her earlier that day — just wanted to do whatever it took to keep him there. He'd stay as long as she asked him to? She'd just keep asking him to stay _forever._ Did it matter if he only stayed out of some misguided sense of chivalry or guilt over what had happened to her, so long as he was _there?_

That part of her needed his comfort like a wilting flower needed the rain. That part of her wanted to fling herself into his embrace and beg him to hold her tight and never let her go.

But there was also a part of her — smaller but nonetheless present — that wanted to run and hide the second she saw his face. Or saw his strong hands clenching into fists at his sides, the ones that could pulverize trees. His overwhelming strength had never frightened her before. It kind of did now.

Her brain might know it hadn't been him who violated her out in the forest, but it hadn't fully convinced her body of that fact yet. She couldn't control her own physical reactions. She had seen his face only twice now since it happened, but both times, her fight-or-flight had kicked in.

Like just a few moments ago on the stairs, when she literally ran from him and Carlisle.

But she had good reason.

She had heard what they said. Well, some of what they said, anyway. Enough to read between the lines.

It was Edward's voice she heard first, the one that had drawn her down the hallway toward the stairs, though she could hear just bits and pieces.

_"I agreed to a deal of sorts..."_

_"...to see Bella..."_

_"...hope that's all I agreed to."_

The words knocked the breath out of her like a physical blow, stoking her already deep insecurities about the reasons for his return.

Alice had to make a deal with him to even come and _see_ her? He didn't want to be there. He didn't want _her_ there. Despite his kind words in his room earlier, the way he called her "love" when he promised to come back — it meant nothing. _She_ meant nothing to him. He was doing his chivalrous duty to her and no more, and even then probably only because his family was encouraging it.

She should have stopped listening and run back to his room at that very moment, at least long enough to wake up Jacob and beg him to take her somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. She might have done exactly that if she wasn't a little terrified to touch _him_ , too. She had no idea yet what caused him to turn into a giant wolf.

Jacob, at least, had apologized earlier, for abandoning her; had insinuated that he avoided her after he phased the first time, only to keep from hurting her.

She didn't know exactly what he meant, and she didn't want to find out the hard way. She had been hurt enough, for one day.

So rather than retreating to Edward's room, her feet instead drew closer to the top of the stairs, wanting to hear more of Edward's and Carlisle's conversation. Her heart was hammering in her ears so loudly it drowned out the rest of what they were saying until they came into sight, with Carlisle hugging his son fiercely. She caught the end of what Carlisle was firmly saying.

_"...she is still your mate. We protect our own."_

She was still his mate? She hadn't been sure about that. There was so much she still didn't understand, and Edward had left town before he finished explaining it all to her.

It wasn't that there hadn't been ample opportunity. It was just that it was a topic that Edward had seemed to have great difficulty discussing before he left...at least with words. Every time they had tried, she had quickly found herself either straddling his lap or on her back beneath him, his tongue in her mouth forestalling any further conversation — although she certainly hadn't been complaining about that at the time.

She shivered, just the tiniest bit. She couldn't even _think_ about anything like that right now. At the moment, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to again.

But that wasn't the most important part of what she had just heard.

Since when did Carlisle have to _instruct_ Edward to protect her? She started to shake again.

Despite her best effort, she couldn't pick out a word of Edward's response, not even after drawing as close as she dared on shaky legs.

_"I think you may be wrong about_ _that_ ," Carlisle was saying, the next words she could hear. _"You didn't see that girl watching for you every second after you and Alice left tonight. I did."_

Humiliation flooded every inch of her. She was _grateful_ this time that she couldn't hear Edward's response. But the humiliation only deepened when Carlisle started speaking again, although she couldn't catch all of it.

_"I stopped going to the door to check on her after the first hour, because she looked so disappointed every time she saw me...she still feels your mate bond, Edward, just as strongly as she did before. I'd stake my reputation on...""_

The words were bad enough, the mortifying fact that Edward knew just how pathetic and desperate she was, when he clearly no longer felt the same.

And then something even worse happened.

He _saw_ her. He suddenly glanced up over Carlisle's shoulder, his eyes locking straight on hers like gravity had pulled them there.

_"Carlisle,"_ he stopped his father with one quiet word, alerting him to her presence.

He _knew_. But what surprised and confused her was his eyes. They were so...kind. Even she could see the tenderness there.

Chivalry, her insecurities screamed. He was a gentleman. She had been hurt, so he didn't want to rub her nose in his rejection.

He started toward her, and she nearly tumbled down the stairs trying to back away. She gripped the handrail for dear life. She didn't want this. She didn't want his damn _pity._

_"Please be careful, love."_ The sweet words were like acid thrown in her face. " _Are you all right? Do you need anything?"_

Not from him, she didn't. And at the same time, she needed _everything._ She wanted him to call her 'love' again in that gentle voice she had missed more than she realized, the one that sounded _right_. Not the one from the other Edward, in the forest, when everything was so wrong that it hurt.

She wanted _this_ Edward to take care of her, make her feel safe again.

Some small part of her wanted to throw herself down those stairs, just to see if he would catch her, just to feel his arms around her.

But with a fierceness that surprised her, she also didn't want him or anybody else to fucking _touch_ her — including Carlisle and his apparent determination to _force_ Edward to stick by her now that she was broken.

And they were both slowly getting closer.

Hurt anger swelled up inside her. _Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone._

She wasn't sure if she said it or if her mind just screamed it.

But she turned and fled before the first tear fell.

* * *

Frustration flooded Edward as he stared up the stairs after Bella ran. Her cries from the bathroom ripped through him like wildfire.

And there wasn't one goddamn thing he could do about it without risking making it worse.

His initial decision was to wait for Alice, since Carlisle had already told him she was on the way and Bella had seemed comfortable with her earlier, at least.

Neither he nor Carlisle were an option. She had literally just run away from them both, told them to leave her alone.

But he'd be damned if he was sending in Jacob and his idiotic hero fantasies to console her, either. Violently throwing Jacob straight through the bathroom window and into the nearest tree if he got too touchy-feely wasn't going to make Bella _less_ afraid of him. So the mutt could just stay out of the way and keep snoring as long as he liked. Forever would be good.

So Alice it was, then.

But Alice must have seen that decision coming and decided to throw him a curveball, because he got a very cryptic text approximately two seconds after he told Carlisle he thought that was what they should do.

_"Got sidetracked. Helping Jazz and Em with something. Won't be back for a while. You're still letting me pick out your clothes later."_

"Damn it." Edward passed a weary hand over his face. Bella's cries pulled him like the moon pulled the tide. And yet the last thing he wanted was to blunder in and make it worse.

"Where are Esme and Rosalie?" he asked Carlisle, his frustration rising. "I know you're all hiding something from me, but right now I don't care. I need their help."

Carlisle immediately started guarding his thoughts, confirming those suspicions. "I'm sorry, son. That's not an option right now. They're in Seattle, observing a new...situation there. I'd have gone myself, but with everything that has been happening here with Victoria, I didn't think it wise for myself or your brothers to leave Bella."

That was definitely not what Edward had expected, but it made him even more uneasy. If his family was involved, that meant vampires. And if they didn't want to tell _him_ , that meant _Bella._

Seattle was way too close to Forks, especially when Bella was in Forks. Especially _now_ , when he couldn't get close enough to protect her as well as he would like.

There was also no guarantee she wouldn't take off to La Push at any moment, out of his reach. He looked up the stairs, his muscles tensing as his panic over that prospect rose.

He'd apologized for kidnapping Bella before, and he'd meant it. She'd accepted. But even then, they had both known he'd do it again, without blinking, if it came down to a choice between her will and her safety. She admitted as much herself, in the hospital. And despite every promise he'd made to himself to be completely nonthreatening, here he was seriously considering it again.

But what he _wasn't_ sure of was whether there would be forgiveness forthcoming again, especially not now. He'd really, really rather not be forced to take that route.

"Seattle." He repeated the word grimly, untensing his hands one finger at a time. _Think, damn it_ , he berated himself. _Don't react. Think._ "What business do we have in Seattle?"

"Possibly none. It could be a simple coincidence. I'm taking a proactive stance, so to speak. I'll not allow this family to be hurt again if there's a way to prevent it. Not on my watch."

Edward's phone chirped again, just before he could ask any more questions, and he very nearly rolled his eyes. Interesting timing. Coincidences and Alice weren't two things that belonged in the same sentence.

_"Slow down. Before you resort to kidnapping, try knocking on the door and just being honest with her. I promise it'll be okay. I know what I'm doing."_

The diversion worked. He forgot all about Seattle, his jaw ticking with frustration as he read that text.

Be honest with her.

He'd come to the same conclusion himself, earlier, in his room. Honesty the best policy, and all that.

He'd tried it, and it had kicked him in the teeth. At just a few honest words from him, Bella had gone into a borderline panic attack that had required _Jacob's_ hands on her to calm.

Be honest with her. Sure. Easy. Just tell her everything, right?

How, exactly, would _that_ conversation go? Hi, Bella, I realize you're terrified at the sight of me right now, and I know I broke your heart and left you alone for seven months to deal with not just one but _two_ monsters hellbent on hurting you, but I did all of that _for_ you. You can trust me. Really. So please open the door and just let me hold you, despite all the pain I've caused you, because if I don't feel you safely in my arms soon, I'm going to lose my damn mind.

By the way, I was wondering if you still feel anything for me at all, or have I lost you to the giant werewolf camped out on the floor in my room? Because I'm doing my best to not kill him for you, I really am, but it's extraordinarily tempting.

Of course. That ought to set her right at ease.

But why stop there? While he was at it, why not just unload every sick, twisted, violent imagining that his psyche had dreamed up since he walked in and saw the bruises covering her soft skin, all the dark punishments he fully intended to inflict when he got his hands on the one responsible for putting those marks there?

He could show her the depth of his rage, let her in on the disturbing fact that, God help him, his more murderous thoughts were the only thing keeping him going, especially since he couldn't touch her, hold her, do _something_ to calm that primal ache in him that needed his mate close, needed to _physically_ get his arms around her, defend her, bare his teeth and snarl and growl at anything that got _near_ her.

He could tell her how he had a burning desire to wrap her up in his embrace, breathe all over her and cover her in his scent until any supernatural creature — vampire, wolf, or otherwise — knew exactly who she belonged to and what he would do to them if they touched her.

Because if he was honest, as Alice suggested? Those would be the things he confessed. And if that didn't drive her the rest of the way away, nothing would.

"That's not a bad idea," Carlisle remarked, bringing Edward's shocked eyes up from scowling at his phone. But his father hadn't suddenly become a mindreader with highly questionable judgment, although at that point, nothing would have surprised him. Carlisle was leaned forward, reading the text from Alice upside down.

Another vote for honesty. Edward stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"I can't go up there! What the hell am I supposed to say to her, Carlisle?" he exploded. "She can barely _look_ at me, much less come near me, and how can I blame her? I've done nothing but make things worse for her since I got here! She'd be better off if I never came back at all."

"Would you like me to try?" Carlisle asked calmly. Too calmly. And Edward bristled at the very thought.

Then he sighed. One of the worst things about being a mindreader was _knowing_ when you were being played and knowing it was going to work anyway. Carlisle was calling his bluff. He knew full well that Edward wouldn't be able to send another male and stay away, anyway. He was just cutting straight to the inevitable.

"You already know the answer to that. Just do me a favor?"

"Of course."

Edward took a deep breath, looking up the stairs. Bella's sobs hadn't diminished. God, how he hated to hear her cry.

"If she bolts on me? Please stop her. Just don't let her out of the house. I can't be the one to physically chase her down and put my hands on her, Carlisle. I won't, not after what I think he did to her today. But it's not safe for her outside this house, either, so if you don't stop her, I'll have to." His eyes pled for understanding. _Don't make me do that._

"You have my word."

And he knew he did. Because even if he hadn't been able to read his father's thoughts, Carlisle's sympathetic eyes made it clear he understood exactly what it cost Edward to make such a request.

* * *

The tears Bella had held back all afternoon finally hit her with full force, as she slid down the heavy wood bathroom door to sit on the cold floor with her knees drawn up. She buried her face in her knees, her hands covering her head, rocking back and forth.

She had pushed it down all day. But after coming unexpectedly face-to-face with Edward in the hushed darkness downstairs, it was all flooding back, and there was _nothing_ she could do to stop it.

Her own words back in the forest rang in her ears, taunting her.

_"You're not him. ... He's going to kill you if you touch me again."_

Those words had sealed her fate.

And in the end, she had been stupid to say them, to ever believe them. Because the real Edward didn't even react when he saw her bruised body, didn't even seem to _care_. He wasn't going to be avenging her.

But inaccurate or not, she had still been a fool to say it, to taunt a vampire she _knew_ wasn't him.

It was all her fault, she concluded.

All of it.

First of all, it shouldn't have taken her hours in the presence of an impostor to figure it out, despite the impossibility of someone else both looking and sounding exactly like Edward.

Did Edward know, she wondered, that she had been tricked, that she had believed the worst of him? Because she had. Before she figured it out, she had firmly believed he was either a cheater, a liar, a murderer, or all three. She had believed he always _had_ been.

Was that why he didn't care what had happened to her?

Did he think she deserved it?

But her mistakes didn't end there. Even when she figured out that her abductor was a fraud, she should _never_ have called him out on it. She should have pretended, let him continue kissing her and sweet-talking her, spinning beautiful lies as she bought time for herself to find a way out.

She had sensed how dangerous he was, even before she literally stumbled onto the evidence that he was a murdering monster. Still, she should have just gone along with him. He had been gentle, solicitous, _kind_ to her, at least for the most part, after he kidnapped her out of her yard, even if his touch made her skin crawl even _before_ she realized it wasn't really Edward.

But she hadn't played it smart, she berated herself. The very second she realized he was a fraud, it came out of her mouth — and immediately set him off.

_"You're not him... He's going to kill you if you touch me again."_

_"He tried that once already."_

She had thought that mystifying statement meant he was done pretending to be Edward.

But she was very, very mistaken about that. He was just getting started.

The things he had _said,_ after he roughly threw her to the ground and ripped her shirt open, about how he would prove it to her if she didn't believe him — that his mate wasn't going to talk to him that way, and he'd show her _exactly_ who and what she was mated to...

She couldn't get it out of her head.

Especially every time she came face-to-face with the _real_ Edward, and her heart started pounding with a fight-or-flight reaction she couldn't control.

Her mind knew it wasn't him.

Or...it was trying to.

The brutal vampire with Edward's face had followed her to the ground, straddled her waist, held her by the throat and repeatedly forced her to look him in the eye and say his name if she wanted to breathe.

No, not _his_ name. She didn't even know his name. It was Edward's name he forced her to say. Or were they the same? After a while, she couldn't remember and she couldn't _breathe._ The line of distinction started to blur in her mind.

It was only then that he tore her already destroyed shirt from her body like paper, painfully ripping her bra in half at the same time, while she gasped to regain her breath. When she immediately used her arms to cover her chest, his hands just slowly slid down her skin to the waistband of her jeans.

She begged him to stop, at that point. She looked him in the eye and called him Edward without being asked, because she had already learned that it pissed him off when she didn't.

He ripped the front right off of her jeans with a violent yank, before tearing them the rest of the way from her body in one fluid motion. Her hands left her chest and covered her face instead.

"Please _don't...Edward...Edward...stop."_

She sobbed as she clenched her thighs together tightly in an attempt to preserve her modesty. Her panties he tore slowly, enjoying her pleas to stop.

He made her say his name again — _Edward's_ name, she reminded herself numbly — as he did it.

He yanked her wrists with enough force to bruise, pulling her hands away from her face to make her look at him when she was completely bare.

"I'm going to enjoy this, love," he sneered into her frightened face. "I should have claimed you a long time ago. Now, say my name."

It was an alien, surreal feeling, seeing _Edward's_ beloved face above her when punishing hands grabbed her biceps and abruptly pushed her arms far back over her head, ripping a pained yelp from her throat.

He held her arms just below the armpits, shoving her upper arms hard to the ground beside her ears, a position that held her completely helpless and forced her to unwillingly arch her bare chest toward him in invitation.

She'd nearly dislocated her shoulder twisting and bucking, desperately trying to free herself, cover herself. Her hands had uselessly clawed the ground behind her head, unable to achieve any type of leverage whatsoever.

His knees shoved her legs apart, inserting his fully-clothed body between them before dropping his crushing weight onto her. He'd pinned her hips down with his own to further immobilize her. She could feel his arousal, stiff and hard against her naked flesh through his pants...and it had utterly terrified her. He was _enjoying_ this.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Then he had put his mouth, his tongue, on her breasts, her nipples, while she screamed.

He hurt her less when she called him _Edward_ as she begged him to stop. She learned that _very_ quickly.

Time lost all meaning.

He hadn't been gentle. He hadn't been in a hurry, either.

In the present, standing in the bathroom, her hands shook as she looked down at her fingers, horrified at what she saw.

The first thing she had done when she reached the Cullen home was shower, scrubbing her skin raw. She just couldn't stop, at least until Alice gently pulled her out of water that was starting to run cold and dressed her in soft, warm sweatpants and a t-shirt. She put her on Edward's soft leather couch, despite her tears and protests that she didn't belong there.

Even after all of that, there was _still_ dirt under her fingernails from where her hands had been free to uselessly flail and scrabble for purchase against the cold ground behind her head.

That hadn't even been the worst of it.

He had let her arms go, eventually, the pain of returning circulation rivaling the pain of her raw nipples as she immediately crossed her arms over her breasts to protect them. His weight on her disappeared.

It was little comfort, because then there had been the terrifying feel of that same cold, brutal grip on her thighs. She had put up a good fight, but she had no hope. He got them spread wide easily, despite her fierce struggles to close them again. He ruthlessly shoved them wider apart, held them there with his body, leaving her spread wide and exposed.

He cruelly touched, fondled, terrorized the outside of her, making her wonder when it would happen. She didn't know how long it had gone on.

He wouldn't let her close her eyes or look away. He squeezed her throat shut and cut off her air when she tried.

He made her say his name...Edward's name...his name...God, she couldn't even remember which was which...over and over again as he terrorized her.

Until something in her snapped, decided to fight back.

_"You're not HIM!"_

She screamed it as loud as she could, over and over, like a mantra as she fought him. The insides of her legs were going to be bruised with his grip, but she fought like she was possessed.

Her defiant words put an end to the slow torment, at least. His fingers abruptly pushed inside her dry... she didn't know how many... fingers that looked like Edward's, as she alternately screamed horrifically contrasting phrases, with her eyes squeezed shut...

_You're not him...you're NOT HIM...Edward, please stop...please...you're not him...EDWARD, STOP...you're hurting me...you're not him..._

The words lost all meaning, just like time.

She had smelled her own blood but didn't even know where it came from. Was it from _there_ , or was it from the multiple abrasions of her skin against the hard ground? She knew her lip was bleeding. She tasted the blood when she bit into it.

Was she even a virgin anymore? Did it even matter?

It kind of mattered to her now, no matter how many times she'd told Edward — the real Edward — that she could care less about that.

Then there was the most shameful part of all, the part she prayed her three rescuers didn't know, that they hadn't been privy to as they arrived. Even if they had seen literally everything else.

He'd manipulated her body, his fingers alternating between rough and gentle inside her, his thumb painfully pushing against the most sensitive spot on her body, the bundle of nerves she'd only ever discovered and touched when she lay in her bed and thought about Edward, when she'd entertained deliciously naughty thoughts of him touching her exactly there.

She was utterly horrified by what she'd done.

Her body had responded to the forced, painful stimulation, utterly against her will, at the hands of a cruel stranger. It was unforgivable, even to herself. She couldn't imagine what the Cullens...Jacob... _Edward_ would think if they knew. They could _never_ find that out. She'd sooner die.

At some point, her mind went blank, protecting itself the only way it knew how — by retreating inside itself.

The next thing she remembered was the shocking appearance of a huge, russet-colored wolf barreling toward her. She only saw it because she'd turned her head to the side, determined not to look at the handsome, terrifying face above her anymore, even if he killed her for it.

In her panic and terror, she thought she was imagining that wolf, until her attacker's weight disappeared from her body and he fled at the sight.

She now knew the wolf to be Jacob, although she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around that part. It had stopped beside her, staring at her, before throwing its head back with a ferocious growl. She only had enough time to process that she was surely about to die, before the wolf took off in the same direction as the impostor.

Emmett and Jasper appeared above her just as the wolf ran off, and then things became even more terrifying.

She had lain on the ground, trying to cover herself, while Emmett and Jasper inexplicably battled two giant wolves. She'd found the will to scramble to her feet. Leaving her ruined clothes behind, she'd tried to run, to hide.

She only made it about 50 feet.

That was when Emmett appeared in front of her out of nowhere, stopping her without touching her, his hands held out to the side as he called her name and promised not to hurt her. She had no idea how many times he said it before she finally processed it and stopped backing away in terror, afraid to go any farther backward, either, because the two wolves were still back there, growling and whining. Emmett's stricken eyes stayed locked carefully on her face and his voice was soft.

One second he was wearing a huge blue hoodie. The next, it was a plain white tank top, and the blue hoodie was in his hand, held out to her in offering. Her eyes weren't fast enough to process the transition. They did process that the sleeveless tank made his hugely muscled frame all the more daunting. Since when did she want to run from _Emmett?_

But she'd snatched the blue fabric out of his hand, ripped it over her head, down onto her filthy, dirt-streaked body before covering her face with her hands, swaying precariously.

Blue. What a strange thing to think of, in that moment.

Edward liked her in blue.

Emmett caught her just as she started to collapse; picked her up and cradled her in his arms. He informed the growling wolves, flanking him on each side, that he'd go straight through them if he had to, but he was taking his little sister to the hospital.

He'd talked to her all the way there, on the long run back through the forest. Told her how brave she was, that she was going to be okay, that nobody was going to hurt her anymore.

She'd clutched at his shirt and desperately told him...something. She couldn't remember now.

It was important, though. She knew that much. She'd told him over and over.

She never saw Jasper again, after she ran. He wasn't there anymore by the time Emmett picked her up. Had her blood tempted him, even as she lay on the ground, broken? Her tattered clothes had also disappeared from the ground. Did he take them? And why?

She wasn't prepared to deal with any of it yet, not there, not in the Cullen house. Not _any_ of it.

The dirt under her fingernails horrified her. She needed to get her hands clean.

She pushed to her feet, swaying back and forth with dizziness, not letting it deter her efforts to get to the sink.

But she was only two steps away from the door when there was a soft knock, and her heart started pounding as she looked wildly around the room.

She was _trapped._

* * *

It took every ounce of courage he had to bring his hand up to the door and knock to make his presence known.

"Bella...it's Edward."

His tone was as gentle as he could make it. He still heard the increased panic in her breathing, straight through the heavy door, the way her heart sped up in fear, and it nearly broke him.

He had startled her, made her feel trapped, and he could _smell_ her terror. A flash of anger toward Alice surged through him. Whatever her flimsy excuse for forcing him to do this himself, he highly suspected it had more to do with Alice's singleminded focus on what was best for _him,_ the approach most likely to force him and Bella together. Because how could putting Bella through something like this be what was best for _her_?

"I just want to know you're okay, Bella." He allowed no trace of his anger with Alice into his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. I won't touch you if you don't want me to. But I need to make sure you're all right. Can you talk to me?"

Agonizing seconds passed without a word, but at least the panicked rhythm to her breathing ebbed. She was standing still, a couple feet from the door — his highly attuned ears could pick up that much — and her initial terror was subsiding.

"It's okay," he said gently. "I'll stay out here. You don't even have to open the door. But please talk to me."

There was still no answer, but he'd already figured out not to expect one. She was breathing easier and her heart rate was settling back down, and she wasn't trying to run. That was enough, for the moment. She wasn't in danger, at least physically.

And he'd do whatever it took to convince her of that.

"I'm going to sit down outside the door, okay? I won't open it, not unless you ask me to. I'm not going to do that." Unless he had reason to believe she was in physical danger or he heard her trying to go out the second-story window, in which case he'd have that door out of his way in less than a second. But he wasn't telling her that. Honesty only went so far.

"I'm just going to sit here and talk."

He lowered himself to the ground, eyes locked on the shadow he saw beneath the door. She was standing still.

"Why don't you sit down too, Bella?" he suggested cautiously. Because he hadn't forgotten how wobbly she was standing on the stairs, and the sudden thought of her falling and hitting her head on the sink had his fingers twitching to break that door down, despite his promise. And they didn't need that.

She didn't sit. But she did take a step closer to the door, and his dead heart soared. His approach was working.

_Keep talking_ , his instincts screamed.

"I went hunting with Alice," he volunteered, the least inflammatory topic he could think of, out of multiple bad options. He kept his voice just loud enough to know she heard it, his tone conversational. "She was serious earlier, about me buying her a car. And I'm happy to do it. You may not have seen her, but she's been watching over you while I've been gone. My whole family, but especially Alice. And Emmett. I owe them all, more than I could ever repay."

Her breathing sped up, and he wasn't sure why. Was it the reference to big, physically imposing Emmett, who had found her naked in the forest? Or to his family lurking in the shadows, in general? He decided to walk it back a little.

"Emmett won't ask for a car, though. Truthfully, he'd probably prefer that I buy _you_ one. As would I, if you'd allow me." He injected a smile he didn't really feel into his voice. "You know how he feels about your truck. It personally offends him."

No reaction, at least that he could hear. Enough of this. If his presence was making things worse, he was offering her an out. Right then and there.

"Speaking of Alice, I promise that she'll be back very soon, if you would prefer her company."

That wasn't an empty promise. If Bella expressed a desire for it to happen, he'd find Alice and drag her back himself.

"She'd love to spend some time with you. My sister has missed you very much."

He heard it — the little catch in her breath. The _pained_ catch in her breath. And unlike in his room earlier, he wasn't oblivious to the reason. On the contrary, his mistake hit him in the gut like a lightning bolt.

He had overcompensated again.

He didn't just need to reassure her that he posed no physical threat. She was equally as unsure of his heart — despite the fact that she held it in her delicate hands.

How could he assure her of one without frightening her about the other?

"And _I_ missed you too, of course," he amended, his voice strained. _Please, please don't run,_ his heart silently screamed. "I can't begin to describe how much."

But instead of running, she took another step closer to the door, standing close enough to touch it now. Her scent exploded in his throat. It was the closest he'd been to her since he got back, even if it was through a door. Closer than he'd sat to her on the couch in his room. He barely noticed the fiery burn. His other senses were _alight_ with her.

"I was in Brazil for seven months," he continued, a little less hesitantly. Maybe Alice was right after all. Maybe he _did_ need to be the one at the door. "And there are only five days even worth remembering."

She slowly lowered herself to the floor on the other side of the door. He was just as aware of it as he would have been were he looking right at her.

"They were the five days I got to hear your voice, through the phone. Those were the only days I felt alive, if that's what I am. Nothing else mattered to me, aside from you. It still doesn't. No matter what happened today, Bella, it never will."

The salty smell of fresh tears hit him, and he inched his body closer to the door, cautiously stretching out a hand to touch it. He could almost feel her heat straight through the door, and somehow he knew — he just _knew —_ that she was doing the same on the other side, their palms pressed together with the door between them.

Carlisle had been right about their bond. He could _feel_ it, the hum of the pull between them, drawing him closer — compelling him to tell her the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't.

He _shouldn't_ tell her. His rage wasn't her burden to bear.

But it was swelling up from his chest, and he couldn't hold it in. Something in him _needed_ to say it.

His forehead fell against the door with a nearly inaudible groan as he surrendered.

"I'm going to enjoy killing him, Bella" he confessed hoarsely, and heard her surprised inhale. He couldn't stop himself. The urge to spill his guts to her was all-consuming. "That may be the wrong thing to tell you. I don't know. But it's the truth. I intend to find him, and I'm going to kill him. I'm going to tear him into a million pieces."

His guts clenched when he realized she was backing away from the door, and he cursed himself for a fool. What right did he have to lay such a thing on her?

But then he heard the click of the door being unlocked. And his breath froze in his throat. He lifted his head and went completely still, eyes wide.

She had only backed up enough to let the door swing open. And then she was there where he could see her, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, watery eyes locked on him. She studied him intently.

He hadn't intended to say another word. But his confession wasn't done, apparently, and he didn't try to hide the growl in his voice or the murder in his eyes. He _couldn't._

"You probably think I'm a monster. But God help me, Bella, ripping apart the monster that hurt you is the only thought that brings me even the slightest comfort."

After another moment of studying him intently, she buried her face in her knees, and he heard the little sob. He dug his fists into the ground at his sides so hard the floor dented, trying to keep himself in place. Every cell in his body wanted to go to her, pull her face up so he could see her eyes.

"Please don't be afraid of me," he begged in a harsh whisper, instead. _"Please."_

And then she turned his world upside down, not for the first time that day.

"I told him you would," she whispered into her knees, the first time she'd spoken since she told him to leave her alone.

That statement sent him reeling, damn near knocked the breath out of him.

Did she mean what he thought she meant? Because that would imply that she _knew_ it wasn't him at the time she was being assaulted. It would mean that some part of her had believed in him enough to know he would avenge her, at the very least. He could barely dare to hope.

It was only with great difficulty that he kept his voice within the same universe as anything that could be considered calm. He _needed_ to see her eyes, but she had them hidden in her knees.

"You told him I would what, sweetheart? Can you tell me what you mean?"

Seconds ticked past.

If she wanted to tell him, she would, he lectured himself sternly, holding his tongue. His monster saw an opportunity. It was salivating to pepper her with questions, pry out any information that would get it closer to the dark revenge it desired.

But his monster could shut the hell up. She was actually _talking_ to him, and he'd be damned if he was turning that precious gift into an interrogation. There would be time for all of that later.

He had nearly given up on her answering, was trying to think of a less threatening topic that would keep that door open, when she suddenly did the equivalent of reaching into his chest and starting his icy heart beating again.

"I told him you'd kill him if he touched me." She stated it flatly, but there was a question there when she peeked up at him, studying him _very_ intently again as she waited for his reaction.

He couldn't even wonder what she was looking for. One awe-inspiring realization held his mind captive. She _knew_. When the worst happened, she knew the difference. She knew it wasn't him.

And she had _defended_ him to his impostor.

It was both touching and _terrifying_ , because such defiance could so easily have gotten her killed.

The protectiveness that swelled up in his chest was dizzying. He wanted her in his arms with a fierceness that was near feral. But the overture she had just made was a test if he had ever heard one. And it was one he intended to pass.

"And you were right, Bella. I will. Hurting you is an offense I won't forgive. You knew that in your heart, and I'm glad."

He would show no mercy, either, when he got his hands on that lowlife son of a bitch. But he restrained his tongue from expounding on the details any further. And it was a good thing, because Bella wasn't finished turning him inside out and upside down.

"He said you already tried to kill him once," she whispered. "Who is he, Edward? Why did he want to hurt me?"

His brow furrowed with confusion. He remembered every kill he had ever made, with great clarity. He might not be proud of it — aside from killing James, for which he felt _no_ remorse whatsoever — but anything he had ever _attempted_ to kill was very dead, human or otherwise. Losing a fight was something he would definitely remember, and he didn't.

But none of that helped him at the moment. Looking into Bella's frightened, pleading eyes, he wanted to put his fist through the floor. The only thing his mate asked of him was answers, and he couldn't even provide those.

"I don't know yet," he told her honestly. "But I swear to you that I'll find out."

She bit her lip, hugged herself tighter. "You don't think — I mean, I know this sounds crazy, but — you don't think it's James, do you?"

The very real fear on her face was more than he could bear. He slid forward across the floor, until he was barely inside the bathroom door. Close enough that if they both reached out, he could touch her. It was all he could do not to get even closer and cup her face in his hands. He needed her to understand.

"No." He said it unequivocally. "Bella, look at me. James is dead. Do you hear me? I tore him apart myself and burned the pieces. He's gone. I promise you that whoever this is, it's _not_ James. He can't touch you. I made sure of it."

She nodded, looking away. "I believe you."

Hope soared in him, and suddenly he didn't want to talk about James or Victoria anymore.

Instead, very tentatively, he stretched out one hand toward her, lying the back of his knuckles against the floor. His palm was open, upturned, stretched out to her in invitation to take it. If she wanted to come to him, the door was open.

"Then believe this too. I'm not going anywhere, not ever again. When you're ready, I'll be here, to listen or anything else you need. It's up to you, Bella. But I'm here."

Her eyes went back and forth between his hand and his face, her fingers twisting together like it took an effort to keep from accepting his offer and putting her hand in his.

And there was just one second where he thought she might even launch herself into his arms. He could almost feel her there.

And then the moment was broken. He sighed, and gave her the only warning he had time to get out.

"Jacob's waking up," he murmured, reluctantly pulling his hand back and sliding slightly back out into the hall where he would be visible, where he could intercept him. "He'll be looking for you in a second."

That was something of an understatement, because in reality, he knew that as soon as he realized she was missing, Jacob was going to come barreling down the hall like a dog possessed, ready to shred vampires first and ask questions later. Which meant that if Edward had any self-preservation instincts, he would at least get to his feet. But Bella stayed on the ground, so he did the same, not willing to risk startling her with any sudden movement.

_"Bella!"_ There was panic in Jacob's voice from Edward's room. Panic that could lead to phasing. " _Bella!"_

"She's down here," Edward called back, a little grudgingly, not really willing to give up his time with her.

Sure enough, the shirtless boy appeared around the corner near instantly, coming straight at them, his still sleepy eyes wildly taking in the situation as he approached the bathroom door. "Why is Bella on the floor? What'd you do to her now, Cullen?"

And that was just about the limit of Edward's patience, because Bella's eyes widened and she shrank away from the rapidly approaching, tall and muscular frame.

And Jacob, he could see, fully intended to sweep right into that bathroom and physically yank her up without warning. That was bad enough, but if he phased with her in his arms...

Edward was on his feet in a flash, grabbing Jacob by the arm to stop his forward momentum toward Bella. He swung him around and pushed him back but kept hold of him, putting his own back to Bella, keeping himself between the two of them.

"You're scaring her," he grit out between clenched teeth. "Calm down."

Jacob yanked his arm and hissed angrily, but he couldn't break Edward's iron grip. "Take your fucking hands off of me, leech."

Edward's voice was cold. "Then keep your hands off of _her_ until you control yourself." Or for the rest of eternity, his possessive monster suggested internally. Jacob vibrated under his hand, dangerously close to losing control. When Edward chanced a glance over his shoulder, Bella's face was back in her knees, her hands over her head. And she was shaking.

His fury melted. As did any selfish urge to keep Jacob from her, so long as he got control of himself.

Slowly, he released Jacob's arm and backed up a step, using the same hand to gesture toward Bella. His next words were spoken low, so only Jacob could hear. "She's seen enough of this for one day, don't you think?"

He'd only heard Alice's descriptions earlier, of the fight Jasper and Emmett had gotten into with Jacob and Paul when Bella had been found. There had been nothing to see because Alice hadn't seen it for herself. She had only been relaying what she had heard from Jasper.

But Jacob had been there. And when he glanced at Bella and instantly understood Edward's meaning — and fully agreed, incidentally, making a conscious decision to behave civilly — Edward got the dubious honor of _seeing_ it in Jacob's quick memory.

Snarls and snaps. More supernatural violence than he'd _ever_ have wanted her to witness.

But worst was Jacob's guilty but vivid memory of a terrified, naked Bella trying to run away alone.

Seeing it was quite different than hearing a secondhand account.

He saw Emmett through Jacob's eyes. Emmett, who was the first to stop fighting and focus on Bella, earning a grudging respect from Jacob.

Emmett. Stopping her without touching her, promising not to hurt her. He offered her his hoodie and caught her gently when she collapsed. He ignored the blood on her scratched-up back like it didn't affect him in the slightest. He picked her up with a tenderness that was surprising, murmuring soothing nonsense.

_God, he was going to buy Emmett something too — anything he wanted._

And then Edward saw something Jacob hadn't intended to let slip...for his own selfish reasons.

Something Bella had said just after Emmett picked her up. Something she had _kept_ saying, repeatedly, while clutching at his shirt and staring up at him with terrified eyes.

_"It wasn't him...it wasn't him...Edward...it wasn't him."_

The memory cut off abruptly, and Edward's mouth fell slightly open as he locked eyes with Jacob. He was frozen into place, stunned. Jacob narrowed his eyes at him, scowling.

"The other leech would have told you anyway. Now get out of the way so I can get her off the floor."

He nodded mutely, still processing what he had heard as he stepped aside. He was still considering it as he watched a much calmer Jacob kneel and rub Bella's back, softly letting her know what he was about to do before he scooped her up in his arms to carry her back to Edward's room.

Bella's body was pliant and near limp in Jacob's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder like she was exhausted. And he had no doubt that she was, emotionally and physically.

The sight made Edward's own arms feel painfully empty, wishing they were the ones wrapped around her, helping her.

They weren't.

But it was his eyes that she sought out, when she lifted up her head and looked over Jacob's shoulder just before they disappeared back into his room.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	9. Revelations

Chapter 9

Edward was spared the decision of whether he should or shouldn't follow Jacob and Bella into his room by the arrival of Alice, who softly called his name as she came in the front door.

He was still more than a little livid about the trick she had pulled earlier, manipulating the situation to force him on Bella after she ran from him — even if things had ended up working out far better than he had dared hope. He was fully prepared to express his feelings on that, at length. So he started down the stairs to the living room.

And then he saw the big piece of furniture his sister was carrying in on her shoulder as though it weighed nothing, and he got sidetracked.

"What is _that?_ " he found himself asking instead. If Alice had seriously skipped out on helping Bella to go _shopping_ , he was probably going to lose his cool completely.

But Alice scoffed at him as she dashed past and temporarily set the unwieldy object down in the living room.

"It's a futon. Obviously."

He wasn't really in the mood for Alice to be obtuse.

"I can see that." He lifted an eyebrow in question, because Alice had become disturbingly good lately at blocking him from her mind.

"Your mate is sleeping on your couch," she explained, "and her pet mutt is camped out on the floor next to it. That's not going to work."

It wasn't like he wasn't already painfully aware of that fact. _Both_ of those facts. He'd intended to take care of it the next day, and not with a futon.

"I can buy her a real bed," he protested. "I'll have something delivered in the morning. Something nice."

Alice made a face, likely at the overly extravagant, fancy four-poster bed she no doubt saw him deciding at that very moment to buy.

"You do that, and she's going to freak out, whether it's because of the money you spent or just the imagery of it. I mean, let's face it, big fancy _bed._ From _you_. In your _room._ Not a good idea right now. Besides, I may have bought this for Bella, but it's really more for Jacob. This way, he can take the couch."

"Jacob's fine on the floor," Edward growled, at least partly because he knew Alice had a point about the bed. But not about this. He was willing to go along with Jacob's presence, if somewhat grudgingly, for Bella's sake. But he didn't have to go out of his way to make the dog's stay any more comfortable, either.

Alice sighed. "If we leave him on the floor, I'm pretty sure he's just going to use that to guilt her into going back to La Push with him."

She said that fast. _Really_ fast, even for Alice. He still caught it.

"Pretty sure? So, what, you're just guessing these days?" It came out nastier than he intended, but he was really at his limits with the entire situation.

Alice hedged. "Okay. You know how I can't see what's going on with her when she's around the wolves?"

No. No, she had not yet mentioned that. And it was terrifying. "Alice..."

"Sorry. I thought I told you. As it turns out, I'm blind to her future as long as he's near her. But I do know Bella, and I'm figuring Jacob out. This is the best way. You know how she is about gifts anyway. And when you _do_ buy her a big fancy bed one day, don't you want it to have only _good_ memories attached?"

Yes. Decidedly yes. But that seemed impossible, at this point, and he wasn't going anywhere near those types of thoughts. Not even to acknowledge exactly how direct of a hit Alice had just scored.

"And Jacob?"

Alice looked annoyed. "Jacob's determined to get her to La Push with him, any way he has to do it. I'm sure you've already picked up on that. And Bella doesn't want to be a burden on anyone, including him. We leave him on the floor, we give him a valid argument for taking her to his house so _he_ can be comfortable. Don't believe for a moment that he's above manipulating her."

Edward's eyes flashed angrily. "I read his thoughts earlier. He's not taking her anywhere without me. He can try. I'll kill him first."

Alice looked confused by his vehemence. "I never really thought he would _intentionally_ hurt her. Exactly what did you see?"

He didn't really want to relive it.

"His ideas for 'comforting' her in his room. If Bella hadn't been sitting there, I'd have likely broken him in half."

His sister looked as disgusted as he felt. "Idiot."

They were in agreement on that point. As was Carlisle, who couldn't help overhearing from his study. Jacob's constant hostility was even beginning to wear on Carlisle's patience.

Edward's eyes fell on the futon again. They were all in agreement on that too. Alice had won this argument. Impressively won it. Him buying something nice for Bella would have to wait.

He sighed. "Let's get this over with. Here, I'll take it up."

But Alice was quicker. She had it hoisted up onto her shoulder in a flash. "Absolutely not. And you stay here. This will be better coming from me."

He didn't like it, but he did it. He stayed put and sat on the couch in the living room after Alice carried the futon out, keeping one ear on what transpired upstairs, but also never dropping his guard for anything approaching the house.

As it turned out, Alice was pretty good at predicting the future, even when she couldn't cheat.

Bella turned the new furniture down immediately, opting to stay on Edward's couch and let Jacob have the futon.

And Jacob had indeed intended to use his spot on the floor as part of his plans to convince Bella to go home with him. But he wasn't as disappointed as Edward might have expected. Apparently, his bed at home was tiny and uncomfortable, far too short for his rapidly expanding height, and had never been soft in the first place. He looked at that brand-new futon with no small amount of longing. If it was anyone other than Jacob, it might actually have been somewhat endearing.

Edward waited until Alice mentally told him all was well and asked if he wanted to come up, and then he dashed up the stairs with more enthusiasm than he'd felt since returning.

After their conversation earlier, the fact that she had both literally and figuratively opened a door to him, he was not missing his chance to tell Bella goodnight — even if from a distance — and assure her that he'd be watching over the house while she slept.

She must have been even more exhausted from her emotional outburst than he'd realized. He was too late.

He entered the room silently, stopping to lean against the doorframe, content just to look at her, to see her so peaceful. But her eyes opened up and locked right on him, like she had again sensed his presence.

His guts twisted. He wanted to fall on his knees in front of her and beg her to let him stay.

He smiled softly, instead.

"It's just me, Bella. You can go back to sleep. I'll be on guard."

The sight of her sleepily snuggled under a blanket on his couch, blinking at him without fear, sent a surge of affection through him. And when she opened her mouth to reply and yawned instead, he actually chuckled.

God, he loved her so very, very much.

Her eyes closed as she yawned, and they didn't open back up.

He knew he was the last thing she had seen before she went to sleep. And she didn't flinch away from him even once.

He'd take it.

* * *

As soon as he was able to tear his eyes off of her and himself away from the doorframe — which Jacob's foul dog odor made at least somewhat easier — he went straight outside for some fresh air, eyes scanning the perimeter. He _should_ be able to hear the mind of anyone approaching, but the seemingly impossible had already happened once in a vampire that could create an exact duplicate of him. He was leaving nothing to chance.

Alice headed out shortly after, letting him see her intentions. Supply run. She was going to Bella's to pack her some clothes and necessities, since her room was completely undamaged from the fire, thank God.

And then she would be shopping to stock the Cullen kitchen with food for humans...and for mutts, too, apparently. He balked at that idea, but if Jacob was going to be there, he supposed feeding him was a necessary evil. As Alice had pointed out, Jacob's perceived comfort in Bella's eyes was among their best allies at keeping her there, at _his_ house, within his reach.

He may have been feeling particularly petty about his rival, but he did manage to keep his voice soft when he snidely called out after Alice to pick up a dog bowl and a bag of Alpo. At least, he refrained from saying it loud enough for Jacob to hear. Carlisle heard it, of course. He was equal parts amused and disapproving.

And then Alice was gone, and Edward was alone outside.

His promise about watching over the house had been a very literal one. He made his way up and crouched down low on the roof, squatting down to sit on his heels with his elbows resting on his knees, perfectly still.

He could see in every direction, and if any strange minds came into his range, he was attuned enough he would hear it.

It wouldn't be wise to try.

Nothing was getting near his Bella. _Nothing._

* * *

The sedative she had requested from Carlisle — the one she had used the previous year after her ordeal with James — still did its job helping her go to sleep. It just didn't _keep_ her asleep anymore, as Bella had learned when Edward arrived back from hunting and she had apparently woken at the same time, feeling compelled to go looking for him.

So she may have been exhausted after their emotional discussion, but she was also wide awake by the time Jacob found her and carried her back to Edward's room, setting her down on the couch.

Edward didn't follow them in. Her disappointment about that was real — but so was her relief.

It was a lot easier to hide what she was about to do from Jacob than it would have been to hide it from Edward.

She knew she probably shouldn't, but she pulled the little bottle out from between the couch cushions and took another pill when Jacob's back was turned. There was very little chance she was ever going back to sleep if she didn't. And as wide awake as she already was, how could it possibly hurt her?

Truthfully, that wasn't her only reasoning. She knew exactly what she was doing. It was the same reason she had initially fought Carlisle's suggestion to bring her to the Cullen home from the hospital, especially when he gently told her that Edward knew she had been abducted and was already on a plane home.

That reason was nightmares.

She had been having them — horrible ones — ever since Edward left her seven months before. After what had happened to her earlier that day, combined with her still potent fears that Edward might disappear again, she didn't hold out much hope for improvement on those nightmares. They were likely going to go into overdrive.

So being at the Cullen house, under Edward's watchful eye, was problematic at best.

His whispered words in the bathroom rang in her mind, tearing at her heart every time she thought of it: _Please don't be afraid of me...please._

His sincerity had made her want to cry. She didn't _want_ to act afraid of him. She wasn't, really. Her conscious brain knew who had hurt her and who hadn't.

Her subconscious, on the other hand, hadn't quite sorted everything out, nor did it seem likely to in the near future. She wanted to keep that hidden from him as much as possible. If his face made one thing clear every time he looked at her, it was that _he_ blamed himself, even if she didn't.

And she already knew that was enough to make him leave. He'd done it once already; had suggested it even in the past, that she'd be better off without him.

So when she went to sleep, she needed it to be a _deep_ sleep. She knew, from the thin, pinched look her father had worn for months after Edward left, just how disturbing her nighttime screams were.

Edward didn't need to hear that. What if it made him decide to leave for her own good again, permanently this time? She might not be ready to be close to him yet, but she didn't want him to disappear again, either. She just needed some _time._ Time to sort everything out on her own, re-center herself, figure out where her head was at — preferably, time _alone_ , without an audience, until she knew how she would react.

But it was pretty clear that _no one_ — not Jacob, not the Cullen family, and most especially not Edward — had any intention of allowing that to happen.

Plan B was the sedatives. Those same pills had helped before, after James, holding the nightmares at bay for the entire week she took them.

So when she first made it back to Edward's room after her emotional breakdown in the bathroom, she gave in to the urge to pop another one. It didn't take long for the extra pill to start working its magic, combined with what was already in her system. By the time Alice appeared with a futon and was done setting it up for Jacob — at Bella's insistence that he be the one to take it — she was yawning.

She was nearly completely out when her eyes suddenly opened of their own accord, drawn with a magnetic force toward the doorway.

Even half awake, her heart skipped a beat when she saw him leaning against the doorframe, softly smiling at her. He was just as beautiful as he had always been. The thought surprised her. She hadn't been certain that she was still capable of...that type of feeling. It was different — she didn't exactly want to jump him or anything. Maybe just hug him, feel his arms tight around her.

_Safe._ The word she associated to that thought surprised her almost as much as the butterflies brought on by his handsome face.

It was the _smile_ , she realized, with a jolt. The kindness in his eyes. The way he looked at her like she was literally everything, like he would _do_ literally anything to protect her. That was how she could tell the difference, how she could know this one was _her_ Edward.

How had she ever mistaken the other one for him? How had she ever not seen it?

She wanted to share her epiphany but couldn't, her eyes closing as she was sucked under into a deep — and what she hoped would be _dreamless_ — sleep.

* * *

It wasn't.

She woke up with a start and a whimper several hours later, dripping with sweat, her heart racing.

She didn't feel right, physically.

Running. She had been running in her dream, so fast and so far that her chest burned like fire, her breath coming in gasps. That had carried over into wakefulness, apparently.

No, not just running. _Chasing_. She had been chasing Edward, desperate to catch him, because he would keep her safe if she could just get to him. But he eluded her, running from her, staying just out of her grasp.

But she wasn't the only one doing the chasing. There was something chasing _her_ , too.

Edward.

There were two of him, she realized as she processed the dream: one good, one evil. One in front of her that she couldn't catch, one behind her, getting closer the harder she ran away from him.

Her mind raced. Had she been screaming? Had she said anything? Had anyone heard her?

Had _Edward_ heard her?

Jacob hadn't, apparently. He was snoring hard, sprawled across the futon he had obviously dragged closer to the couch where she slept. Too close. She kind of wished she was strong enough to shove it back into the corner where Alice had put it, with him on it. Jacob was just so _big_ , and he was getting to be entirely too hands-on since the moment Edward showed back up, like he was trying to hold on for all he was worth.

A tinge of guilt colored her thoughts on that topic. She had clung to Jake, at first, when Carlisle brought her back to the Cullen house. She had just been through hell. She didn't know where things stood with any of the Cullens yet, nor what it was going to be like when Edward arrived. And Jake had been her lifeline for months.

But now? She felt a little smothered by his very presence, honestly. Especially knowing how much of her he had seen when he found her, and when he did things like barging into the bathroom and just picking her up like he owned her. But how could she ask him to leave, after all he had done for her? She likely owed him her life. He was the one who had found her, who had stopped...Edward. The Edward lookalike.

A shudder raced through her, an aftershock from the nightmare. She needed a different name for her attacker.

More importantly, if she didn't get her breathing under control, someone was going to decide to come in and check on her. She didn't want to talk to Alice or Carlisle about her nightmares, and Jacob would only be obnoxious about Edward. She kind of did want to talk to Edward, actually, after how sweet he'd been with her in the bathroom, but she could hardly tell him the truth about her dreams. It would crush him.

Her fingers, of their own volition, dipped back down into the couch cushions where she was keeping the little bottle Carlisle had given her, close at hand.

She hesitated. She'd already taken one extra, earlier. But it was a small miracle she actually _hadn't_ awakened screaming, and that seemed riskier than a possible overdose. She couldn't currently deal with a guilt-stricken Edward deciding she'd be better off without him.

Just one more, and this was the last time. She wouldn't do it again. If it wasn't keeping her asleep, the dose was probably too small anyway. She'd talk to Carlisle tomorrow, get him to adjust it without admitting the real reason why.

She just needed to get through the first night, she rationalized. So she took the little bottle with her when she got up to go to the bathroom, biting her lip hard to keep from crying out at how badly it burned every time she peed. No one needed to know that, either.

When she was finished washing her hands, she left the water running as she took out another pill as quietly as possible. Scooping up some water in her hands, she swallowed it down.

Her own reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and it sent a jolt through her.

The face staring back at her in the mirror wasn't one she recognized. She looked like...some kind of disaster victim.

Bruised cheekbone. Split lip. Dark circles under her eyes, from her sleepless night with Edward's impostor in a cabin that belonged to a dead woman.

Lacey Matthews.

Had the body been found yet? She didn't want to know. At the same time, she _needed_ to know.

She would ask Edward the next chance she got to speak with him privately. That thought — a possible topic of conversation with him about anything other than what had directly happened to _her_ — was somehow a comforting one.

* * *

The peaceful few hours Edward experienced on the roof nearly lulled him into a complacent belief that the night would pass without incident. He should have known better.

He hadn't been nearly as focused on what was going on inside the house as he had the surrounding areas, since he knew Jacob and Bella were both asleep and Carlisle was quietly studying in his office. He wanted his full attention on his surroundings.

He heard a small cry from Bella at one point, like she had awakened suddenly. Her heart rate was off, speeding up and slowing down, and her respiration followed suit. His body tensed, listening. Was she sick? Had she already suffered a nightmare?

He could tell she was awake for a few minutes afterward, that she got up to go the bathroom. But just before he had to decide whether or not to risk going inside to check on her, possibly frightening her when she ran across him in the dark, he heard her settle back down and drift off. His body relaxed.

Jacob snored the entire time. Edward didn't let it distract him from his survey of the woods around the house.

But a few hours later, somewhere near morning, panicked thoughts from inside broke through his focus.

Jacob. Edward heard his panic mentally, even before the frightening words that came out of the dog's mouth.

"Hey! _Hey!_ I need some help up here!"

He was already on his way.

Edward entered his room in a blur and then stopped just inside, his teeth automatically baring at the sight of Jacob bent over an unconscious Bella on the couch, shaking her.

Carlisle flew in the door right behind Edward, putting a cautioning hand on his shoulder as he, too, took in what was happening, but he didn't otherwise interfere.

"I can't wake her up!" Jacob sounded every bit a panicked kid. He continued shaking Bella with more force than necessary, setting Edward's teeth on edge. "Her breathing didn't sound right, so I tried to roll her over on her back. _I can't wake her up!_ "

"Take your hands off of her and move." Edward roughly shouldered Jacob out of the way and knelt by Bella, listening to her far-too-slow heart rate, the sluggish rhythm of her breathing. He gently pulled each eyelid back in turn, checking her pupils.

She was completely soaked with sweat and nonresponsive, and his guts clenched.

"Did you see her take anything?" he threw over his shoulder at Jacob, his tone clipped. Carlisle stayed where he was, frowning as he listened to Bella's vital signs.

It was testament to just how frightened Jacob was that he had stepped aside without argument, insults forgotten for the moment. "Only what the doc gave her — that stuff to help her sleep."

"How many? When?"

"I — I don't know. I wasn't paying attention. Is she going to be okay?"

Edward ignored him, his eyes already scanning the room. She must have taken more pills when she woke up during the night. Bella didn't have a bag or any belongings with her, not even a change of clothes. There was nothing on top of any of the tables or chest of drawers. Where was the damn bottle?

He swept his hand under the couch, didn't find it. Reaching over her, he dug his fingers around behind the couch cushions, skimming sideways until his fingers finally closed around what he was looking for. It rattled slightly in his hand, at least dispelling his terror of finding it empty.

"Carlisle," he ordered grimly, flipping the bottle over his shoulder to his father, whom he already knew understood and anticipated the question. Carlisle opened it and poured the contents out into his hand, quickly counting.

"There's only two more missing than should be, assuming the maximum dose," Carlisle quickly announced, and Edward's head slumped low with relief, his forehead brushing against Bella's unconscious shoulder.

For just a second there, he'd feared she had tried to kill herself.

She wouldn't have done so alone. He'd have found a way to die before sunup if he had managed to destroy her so completely.

Carlisle placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's having some type of reaction. If we can wake her up and her vitals stabilize on their own, we may be able to just monitor her here. If not, Edward, she may need further intervention at the hospital. It's risky to take her to a public place, but I don't have the necessary supplies to care for her here."

"She's safer here," Edward agreed grimly. "Smelling salts?"

"In my bag I left at the office. I was more focused on getting Bella here safely."

Edward had Bella's limp body scooped up into his arms by the end of Carlisle's last sentence, one arm around her back and the other under her knees. He gently maneuvered her so that her head rested against his shoulder before he smoothly rose to his feet and started for the door of his room.

"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're taking her?" Jacob protested, right on his heels.

"Shower," Edward bit out. "Don't worry — you're coming with us."

Jacob was both surprised and confused by that statement, but he followed without asking and Edward didn't bother explaining. It was going to become pretty obvious anyway, about two seconds after Bella woke up, if she reacted the way he was afraid she would at finding herself in his arms. As much as he might hate it, Jacob's presence was likely the only option he had to take the edge off her inevitable terror.

When he reached the outside of the shower, he turned Bella with her back to his chest. He leaned back and held her closely against him with one arm around her waist, allowing her legs to hang down and her bottom to rest on his thigh as he adjusted the water temp. Her head lolled on his shoulder.

"Not too cold, Edward," Carlisle said, appearing beside him. "You don't want to send her into shock."

"I know." His voice was preternaturally calm, belying the fear that raced through his system. "Call Alice and get her back here. Now."

He lifted Bella and stepped into the lukewarm stream of water with both of them fully dressed, turning his back to shield her from the spray at first, until he got himself positioned correctly. He had one arm still locked around her waist, supporting her weight and keeping her leaned back against him.

"Come on, Bella. Wake up for me, sweetheart." He made sure the spray stayed out of her face, but he put his own hand in to wet it, before gently patting at her face, cooling her feverishly sweaty cheeks and forehead. The warm water hit at about her chest level, cascading down the both of them. "I need you to wake up, Bella."

She groaned then, just the tiniest sound, her body automatically trying to retreat from the water, pushing back against his chest. His head dipped, his nose brushing the top of her hair as relief sliced through him like a knife. She was coming around. He wrapped his other arm around her briefly, holding her just the tiniest bit tighter, relishing the feel of finally having her safe in his arms. It was the first time since he'd been home. He was terrified it might also be the last.

"That's it. Open your eyes, love," he murmured into her hair, loathe to stop talking, lest she wake up and get the wrong idea. He reached out and lowered the water temperature just the tiniest bit, using his hand again to brush some cooler water across her cheeks, trying to bring her around slowly. "You're safe, Bella. I've got you. I won't let anything hurt you. Not ever again."

He gave in to the longing, kissed the top of her head and turned his face, resting his cheek on top of her soft hair, his eyes drifting shut.

_He loves her_.

The thought wasn't his own. It came from Jacob, that single, powerful statement of realization that rang out so clearly he couldn't have missed it. The boy wasn't trying to be confrontational, for once. He had just assumed Edward's kind weren't capable of such a thing.

Edward opened his eyes and looked him straight in the eye.

"Yes. I do."

Jacob blinked. He'd momentarily forgotten that Edward could hear him. He recovered quickly. "But so do I."

Edward shook his head, a half chuckle escaping him. Relief had him feeling half giddy. Bella was waking up on her own, breathing better, and her heartrate was coming up. He could afford to be gracious and indulge in this surreal conversation. "I'm aware. I'd be the last to judge you for _that_."

Bella groaned again, starting to weakly fight against both the water and him, regaining his undivided attention. He pulled her back up into his arms and stepped out of the shower with her, then sank down to the floor. He turned her to lean back against him, gently shushing her. She sat between his legs, but he still had to keep an arm around her to hold her up.

"Easy, Bella, it's all right. Just open your eyes. Jacob, turn the water off and come sit in front of her, please. This might go better if she can see you when she opens her eyes."

_And realizes whose hands are on her_ , he thought grimly.

He had surprised Jacob again, apparently, with that request. The thought crossed Jacob's mind that he wasn't sure he could be unselfish enough to ask him to do the same, were their positions reversed, even for Bella's sake.

But Jacob got down in front of them as requested, and his tone was gentle when Bella started coming around.

"Hey, Bells. I'm here. You're gonna be fine." He glanced over her head at Edward and then Carlisle, concerned. "She's, like, really out of it."

Edward kept his voice low. "It's okay. Just keep talking to her. Alice is nearly here, and she'll get her dried off and changed. You're doing fine."

Again, he could see that Jacob was surprised by him.

Bella was having trouble keeping her eyes open, but she did stop weakly fighting Edward's arms when she saw Jacob.

"Jake?" Her voice was raspy, weak.

"Yeah, Bell. Just breathe. You're fine."

Her eyes nearly closed again, but then they popped back open.

"Where's Edward?" She sounded panicked, trying to look around, fighting the arms that held her up. She still wasn't fully coherent.

"Um..." Jacob's eyes widened, again looking over her head at Edward, whose eyes were just as wide, his body going completely still as his hold on her went slack. Jacob quickly realized he wasn't going to find help there. And Bella was going back to sleep on them again.

"I'm sure he's close by?" Jacob made it sound like a question and then abruptly changed the topic, reaching out to shake her arm. "Hey! Bella, what the hell were you thinking taking so many pills? You could have killed yourself." His sharp tone popped her eyes back open. "Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?"

"Jacob, don't," Edward warned softly but firmly, his hold on her tightening slightly, protectively. Bella wasn't up to an interrogation at the moment. "Not right now."

But it was too late. Bella was growing agitated, her head thrashing back and forth against Edward's chest as she fought to wake the rest of the way up.

"No," she slurred. "I had to. He's here. Can't let him hear. Jake..."

Jacob's and Edward's eyes met over her head.

"Who, Bella?" Jacob asked, turning his full attention back to the girl between them. "Who can't be here?"

Bella only grew more agitated.

"No. Not _here._ Edward." Her eyes were drifting shut again, but fluttered back open briefly. She lifted a hand toward Jacob, but weakly dropped it almost immediately. "Help me. Can't let him...hear..."

And she was back out, blissfully unaware.

Edward would get no such reprieve. In his tortured guilt, he heard exactly what he'd been afraid of hearing since the moment his plane landed.

_Can't let him here._

She didn't want him there. Didn't want him, period. Her subconscious, he interpreted, was far more honest about what she really wanted than she would ever be to his face, in some selfless attempt to spare his feelings.

Now, he believed, he knew the truth: she was so afraid of his presence that she had nearly OD'd on sleeping pills, just to find a temporary escape from him.

Jacob's less snide than usual thoughts, coupled with Carlisle's overtly sympathetic ones, indicated they had both come to similar conclusions about what she meant, even if ones not quite so condemning.

It was pretty bad when Jacob Black even felt sorry for him.

Very, very slowly, Edward flexed his hands to lift his fingers away from Bella's body, his arms still supporting her weight against him but trying to do so without putting his hands on her again.

"Carlisle, why don't you take her?" he murmured grimly, trying to keep his tone low. The calm in his voice belied the roiling surge of devastation crashing through him.

His father hesitated, maddeningly.

"Edward...she was both barely conscious and under the influence. The subconscious is a tricky thing. You know that."

"He's right," said Alice, stepping into the room. She had a backpack of Bella's over one arm and carried a fluffy towel in the other, both of which she set down on the bathroom counter before kneeling by her brother. She briefly put her arm around him and lay her head on his shoulder in support. "Here. Why don't you give her to me? She's soaking wet, poor thing. I'll get her dried off and into something warm, and then I'll get her back to bed to sleep it off when Carlisle says it's okay. And then, Edward...we need to talk."

He numbly let Alice pull an unresisting Bella out of his arms and into hers, careful not to jostle her too much.

He might have actually listened to his father and his sister, rather than automatically assuming the mantle of guilt squarely back onto his own shoulders, if not for what happened at that very same moment.

It had been inevitable that Alice's control would slip, at some point. He had been counting on it.

It just couldn't have come at a worse time.

Alice softly told Jacob there were fresh groceries in the kitchen, suggested he make himself something to eat while she changed Bella's clothes.

Jacob left the bathroom without a word, but he didn't go to the kitchen. Seeing his chance for fresh air, he took the stairs two at a time to burst out the door and phase at the edge of the woods, needing to run off some frustration.

The very moment he was far enough away, Alice's glassy eyes met Edward's and froze as the recurring vision hit her yet again — the vision that Edward knew instantly was the thing she had been concealing from him since he arrived at the airport, the thing his family had feared would send him off the deep end.

And they were right.

The terrifying vision wasn't an unfamiliar one. He had seen it before — seven long months before.

Its familiarity did nothing to lessen its impact.

An exact duplicate of him. Forcing Bella in their meadow.

He had assumed that future was now relegated to the past, mercifully interrupted when his brothers and Jacob rescued Bella. But Bella was in as much danger as she had been before he left, before she was already attacked and God only knew how much damage already done.

For one horrifying moment, his venom pooled in his throat.

_Not again_ wasn't just a thought. It was a demand that coursed through his body like a living thing. This would _not_ happen again.

Terror shot through him, manifesting itself in a near _compulsion_ to sink his teeth into her neck and fill her full of his venom, change her into a vampire with or without her consent, so that at least nothing could ever hurt her again so easily. If she wanted to tear him apart herself afterwards, he wouldn't resist.

But his subconscious intervened, providing him with memory after memory of the sheer horror Rosalie had gone through when she first woke up, never having dealt with her trauma as a human before having her control stripped from her yet again — waking up as an unchanging vampire for whom healing was all the more difficult. And he rapidly brought himself under control, forced himself to stand down.

He had already suspected that his enemies intended to _try_ taking Bella again. That much he'd put together at the airport. It was why he'd spent the night on the roof, coiled and ready to fight to the death.

What he hadn't considered for a moment was that Victoria or anybody else would actually get a chance in hell to pull it off, not with him and his family — and even Jacob Black — there to protect her. He had almost looked _forward_ to them coming close enough for him to get his hands on them. Bella wouldn't be in danger with him there.

But Alice's vision said otherwise.

He had just begun, a few short hours earlier, to feel a ray of hope that Bella could eventually forgive him, both for leaving in the first place and for what had happened to her as a result.

But after what he believed to be her revelation about why she had swallowed a near overdose of pills, combined with Alice's vision, hope fled. What would be the purpose in working to regain her trust in him and her love, if it was only to be shattered again; if there was the very real possibility that she was still going to be attacked by a monster in his own body?

It would be almost cruel. No. He _couldn't_ do that to her. Better for her that she go on hating the sight of him.

What he _would_ do was throw himself into finding a way to change the future. Any way.

And there was one he had seriously considered at his lowest point in Brazil — one that he now needed to give further consideration.

So long as Bella wanted his presence, he'd sworn to the depth of his being that he'd never leave her side again. But if she didn't — if she was so desperate to escape him that she'd nearly overdosed — there was one way he _could_ stop the threat against her.

Bella had never been Victoria's target in the first place — not really. _He_ was. If he ceased to exist, so would the motivation to hurt Bella.

He tried that decision on for size, watching Alice's thoughts closely. She was both agonized and stunned when the vision hit her.

It _worked_. It was the first thought in seven terrifying months that had worked. The vision she had checked every day was finally _gone._ She no longer saw Bella being attacked by the spitting image of Edward.

She did see Bella talking to thin air, before throwing herself off a cliff.

It wasn't like his family couldn't put a stop to that, at least. He would make certain of it, before the Volturi granted him his end.

He rose stiffly to his feet and walked out of the bathroom, vaguely aware of Carlisle following behind, to give Alice and Bella privacy.

"Edward!"

Expressionless, he turned to see Alice, with Bella in her arms, staring after him with a horrified concern that would be better spent on Bella.

"Yes?"

"Don't even _think_ about it! You know exactly what I mean. Promise me you'll wait for me. Please. There's more you need to know."

He nodded once before he walked out the door to resume his place on the roof while he waited for Alice. It was the least he could do.

* * *

It was an hour before he sensed Alice approaching, nervously reciting a passage from the Bhagavad Gita in her head. She dropped lightly onto the surface of the roof beside him.

"Carlisle's with her," she offered. "She's fine now. She's resting comfortably."

"I know," he replied flatly, not looking at her. He also knew she had been coherent for a good twenty minutes and hadn't asked for him or even mentioned him once, although her eyes always roved the room looking for him. He had almost let himself believe, earlier, that it was because she wanted him there. He cursed himself a fool.

Making her feel safe was his top priority. He would not set foot in that house again, not so long as Bella was inside, and he wished there was a way to assure her of it without making her feel guilty.

"You wanted to tell me something," he prompted Alice tonelessly, not really sounding as though he cared one way or the other. "Something _else_ you probably should have told me from the beginning."

Alice shrugged a shoulder, not denying the mild accusation. "Well, I _did_. Now I'm not so sure. You've come up with enough stupid plans for one night."

He unknowingly imitated Alice's shrug. And he wasn't denying anything either. They both knew his suicidal plan would work, and that was all that mattered.

"I just want what's best for Bella," he said quietly, sincerely. "What will make her safe. Whatever that may be."

Alice glared at him. "And if you go to the Volturi, I'm dragging her with me to Volterra to stop you. So think about _that."_

Edward turned on her, hissing angrily at the thought of Bella anywhere near that hellhole, in the presence of those soulless monsters. "I'd kill you myself."

Alice just smiled sweetly at him. "You could _try._ But that would be a very long and pointless battle, and who would be protecting Bella in the meantime?"

He sighed and gave up, at least for the moment, knowing she was right. Any contest of any kind between the two of them always ended in a draw. If he had to go that route, it would require some subtlety to get around Alice.

"Then give me another option," he hedged. "What else am I supposed to do, Alice? We both already know that it would work. And I can't sit back and let this happen to her...not again."

Alice's response seemed mystifying. "Even if that's true, it doesn't have to be _now_. We have a timeframe now. We know we have at least six months left before it happens, probably more. That gives us time, Edward. We'll think of another way. We will."

She apparently assumed he knew what she meant, so she wasn't thinking of it. His reply was impatient, frustrated that he had to resort to the verbal.

"Six months? Why? How do you know that?" he demanded.

"You didn't see it?" she asked in surprise, but made a conscious effort to keep the visual out of her head, to keep from subjecting him to it again. "The vision is different now. It was the same every day for seven months, even after he took her, but he never took her anywhere near the meadow. But then it changed just as soon as you boarded a plane home. That means you've already changed it once, Edward. We can do it again."

It had _changed._ Could he really have missed something so crucial?

"Show me," he ordered, but Alice hesitated.

"Are you sure?" She didn't want to hurt him.

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "Yes. Let me see it."

His teeth still ground together; his fists still clenched so tightly that his fingernails cracked. But he forced himself to look closely, to focus on the details.

He'd been so focused earlier on the disturbing vision of Bella and what looked like him, he hadn't paid attention to the surroundings. But Alice was telling him the truth: there was snow on the ground in their meadow now. And not just on the ground — snow swirling in the air.

A snowstorm. A _blizzard._

He did the math in his head quickly. Bella's birthday had been in September. He'd been gone seven months.

"It's the middle of April now," he breathed. "You're right. The timing has changed. We have until the winter to find a way to stop them. But why? Why would they wait so long to come after her again?"

Alice hesitated. "I'm not sure yet. But you should ask Carlisle that question after he has a chance to talk with Esme and Rosalie when they get back from Seattle. I don't know why, but it feels like the two may be related. I just can't _see_ it."

And then she changed the topic abruptly. "Edward, why don't you just change her? She'd be safe that way."

He winced. "I'm ashamed to admit just how close I came to it tonight, when you slipped and let me see. But you weren't there with Rose when she first woke up, after what had happened to her. I was. Bella needs time to heal first."

Alice smiled confidently. "We have until winter. Maybe Bella will _ask_ you to change her by then, and this whole thing will be over. You're not really planning to hide on the roof and avoid her forever, are you? Because of something she said when she was _drugged_?"

His jaw clenched. "I should. But if she makes it clear that she _wants_ to see me, I won't be able to stay away. I know that now. Otherwise, I'm not going to torture her, Alice. I'll be here to protect her, but I'm staying out of sight. Half conscious or not, she seemed pretty clear on not wanting me here, at least for now."

"She will," Alice told him fervently, and sent him a brief, dim image of Bella in a white dress, his mother's ring sparkling on her finger and a soft smile on her face. "I can still find it, Edward. There's still at least one future where that happens."

There was also one where he was attaching that same ring to Bella's headstone, a headstone with a death date only months away, while holding a plane ticket to Volterra in his other hand. He spared his sister knowing that he had caught that brief glimpse as she searched their myriad possible futures.

Instead, he sighed as he turned his head, staring off into the woods. "I'm lost, Alice. Without her, I mean. I can't even remember what it felt like not to need her."

Alice smiled, moved a little closer to him to bump his shoulder with hers. "She's your mate. That's how it's supposed to be."

He exhaled sharply. "It's terrifying. I don't see how you all do it. Just the thought of anything happening to her, or of her turning me away — it becomes difficult to breathe."

Alice nodded. "Some of that is because she's still human...and in danger. But that never completely goes away. I feel it too, to a certain extent, knowing that Jasper is out there, searching for...him. And Victoria."

Edward tilted his head, looking at her, considering. "How do you cope?"

"I'm sure it's different for all of us. But I trust Jasper to do whatever's necessary to come back to me safely. I know that doesn't really apply in your case, at least not physically, because she's so fragile. But Edward, I think she _will_ come back to you, figuratively speaking. I saw how it was for her while you were gone. I think she needs you just as much as you need her."

Edward nodded, not particularly with agreement. Then he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Tell me the rest of it, Alice. We both know there's something you're still hiding from me."

She looked down for a moment, gathering her courage, then met his eyes and slipped a folded-up piece of paper into his hand. He looked up at her, questioning.

She didn't make him wait any longer. "I know who he is."

* * *

Edward could only stare, uncomprehending, for a long moment. Alice's mind gave away nothing. He glanced at the paper in his hand.

"What's this?"

"A sketch. I met up with the boys last night. That's where I was when I texted you that I'd been sidetracked. They've been running down his various trails. He left them a breadcrumb trail all the way to a nightclub in Portland before he let Jasper and Emmett get close enough to catch a glimpse of him. The real him. Then he disappeared into the crowd as God knows who. They described him to me and I drew this. But Edward, you need to understand something: I recognize him. I've seen his real face before. And so has Bella."

He never opened the paper, because Alice dropped her defenses and he saw it in her mind. Bella, unexpectedly going to track down their meadow after school one day while he was in Brazil, unknowingly giving his family the slip. A tall, lanky, red-eyed vampire approaching her, talking to her. Fear in Bella's eyes, but also a calmly welcoming acceptance of her certain impending death that chilled his bones. He could feel the terror Alice had felt seeing it, knowing they'd never get to her in time. He shared his sister's brutal relief when wolves got close enough to scare the monster off.

"If he had seen her before, we could have it all wrong," Alice was still talking, but he was barely listening. "We don't know the extent of his abilities, of everything he can do. Maybe he posed as you because he pulled your memory from her mind. The timing with Victoria leading Jasper and Emmett away could have been simple coincidence or even opportunism on his part. This may not have anything to do with you after all."

But his jaw had gone slack, the very moment recognition shook him to the core. His body froze into horrified stillness.

"No," he breathed hoarsely. "It has everything to do with me."

Alice stared at him. "You know who he is," she said softly. It wasn't a question. She had been fully expecting him to be angry they had let Bella near the meadow to begin with, after expressly swearing to him that they would keep her away from there at all costs. His quiet horror took her aback.

"Tell me, Edward. Who is he?"

But he couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

The voice through the phone — different but somehow the same. The scent on Bella's ravaged clothing — changed but _familiar._ He hadn't been able to place it, before. He could now.

He had stalked this man, decades before. He had seen his mind — the depravity of it.

If _this_ was the man who had spent an entire night alone with his Bella...in his body...

He actually thought he was about to be sick. Devastation washed over him. _Desperation._

He wasn't in control, and his voice reflected it clearly. He sounded panicked.

"Alice, you have to talk to her. You have to find out what he did to her. Everything. She could be hurt. Alice..."

He was reeling, and he couldn't catch his breath.

But it didn't make sense. This was decades ago. Even if that monster had survived, he would be long dead...

And then it hit him.

An alley. The satisfying spurt of thick, warm blood.

A close call. A glimpse of a black cloak, a curious human approaching, far too close to a vampire in a blood frenzy...

He had fled. Hid the body under some boxes...

...and returned to Carlisle the next day, shaken and remorseful. He never went back to check that he had finished the job. After seeing what true evil looked like, through the mind of Albert Thurston Rowe, he was done. He wanted no part of such darkness in his body. Not anymore.

He hadn't killed a human since.

That was the last one.

Or was it?

Was it _possible_?

There hadn't been enough blood left, had there?

No...there couldn't have been. There _couldn't_ have been.

Because if he had unleashed that monster on the world, exponentially multiplied in power...

If he had created such an evil and unknowingly sent it after his beloved Bella...

Then Hell was too good for him.

"I did this to her," he whispered, knowing the truth of it as it came out of his mouth. He might deserve this. Bella did not. His hands, which he idly noticed were shaking, came up to his temples. "Oh, God. It was me. _I_ did this."

"Edward!" Alice gripped him by the shoulders. "Who _is_ he?"

He barely felt it when Alice pried his unresisting hands away. He was as close to shock as a vampire could get, staring straight forward.

"His name is Albert Rowe," he heard his own voice say, but it sounded foreign to his ears. "He's a rapist and a murderer."

His stricken eyes locked with Alice's wide ones.

"And I created him."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	10. Clarity

Chapter 10

The hours that immediately followed his realization of who Bella's attacker was — and where he came from — were a horrific blur of guilt and self-loathing that even Edward's perfect vampiric memory failed to fully process.

He vaguely remembered Alice's shocked face and her quick disappearance.

He remembered Carlisle appearing and sitting down beside him, trying to ask him questions, eventually giving up but returning every few hours in an effort to coax him from the roof.

He remembered refusing to enter the house or even speak, staring straight ahead in what even he recognized must surely be some form of shock.

Somewhere deep, in some still self-aware recess of his being, he knew that he deserved far worse than _shock_.

He deserved to suffer.

He may have saved one woman from Albert on that fateful night so long ago.

But how many victims had he then been responsible for in the past several decades, he wondered, including the one that mattered most, the one _he_ loved? How many other families had lost a woman they similarly adored — their own Bellas — because Edward Cullen wasn't content just to be a monster himself, but he had to go and _create_ one? Because he took what was already a monster by its own right and made it a million times more powerful, unleashed it on the world?

How many of those women who had died because of him had been so lucky as he was at that moment, to find the blessed temporary reprieve of going into _shock_ while they were in Albert's clutches?

And, of course, the worst part of it all was Bella. The thought of being personally responsible for her attack was like dragging razor blades across his soul.

He hadn't been able to fathom the concept, all those years ago, of loving someone the way he loved her. He'd had no clue that she would ever exist. So how could he have known, when he was rebelling and playing God, that he was also destroying the woman he would love? How could he know that the woman he would die for without blinking would be the one to pay for his crimes?

If that was his punishment, it was too much. He would accept anything the universe wanted to throw at _him_ — but not at Bella. She was innocent. _Pure_ , even. She deserved none of this.

His only other memory of those first hours was absently wondering why Carlisle thought it even a remote possibility that he would dare come down and breathe the same air as Bella, after learning what he had indirectly done to her — what he might yet be responsible for, if Alice's vision came true.

It got even worse afterward, when the hazy fog began to lift slightly, leaving with it only the guilt and the shame.

Despite refusing to enter the house, he paid rapt attention to the slightest detail happening within it.

Carlisle hadn't thought it wise to give Bella anything else to help her sleep, in order to allow her system time to recover. And so sleep was a long time coming for Bella after her overdose wore off. Especially when she spent most of her time avoiding food, questions, and medical care, only truly showing interest in the subject of where _he_ was.

It made his heart ache, for a few reasons.

For one, now that he knew what had happened to her was his fault in the truest sense of the word, it was so much easier to take to heart her slurred words as she came to, to make himself believe she was terrified of him — subconsciously at the very least. To believe that _that_ was the reason she was so preoccupied with his location.

Secondly, what would it do to them both when he inevitably had to tell her that he sired the vampire who had come after her? How could he do that to her? If she had even a shred of faith remaining in him, that would surely destroy it.

Alice stayed with her while he was processing, trying her best to distract Bella from the topic of his whereabouts. And when that endeavor failed, she just lied through her teeth.

He heard it all, of course. His sister painted him as some kind of goddamn hero who was out slaying the monster who hurt her, making the world safe for Bella again, rather than as the coward on the roof who made the world lethal for her to start with. Through Alice's mind, he could see Bella bite her lip and look worried. For _him._

It was almost more than he could take. He'd have jumped right in through the window and told her just exactly what a crock of bullshit that was — that he was solely and personally responsible for _everything_ that monster had done to her — if Alice hadn't got a glimpse of him deciding to do exactly that. She immediately appeared on the roof, pointing out that her lies were for _Bella's_ sake, not his, and that what he had been about to do would only hurt Bella.

He snarled savagely but sat his ass back down. He'd hurt Bella enough already.

On the subject of just exactly how _badly_ she had been hurt...she still wasn't ready to talk about that yet, apparently, despite Alice's best efforts. She would completely shut down, picking up one of her books Alice had brought from her room with her clothes, or just stare blankly at the television when Alice pressed, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest. Not even Esme could get anything from her on that topic.

And that concerned him too. Or scared the hell out of him, more accurately.

From the beginning, when Emmett first took her to the hospital, he knew from Carlisle that Bella had adamantly declined any type of medical exam beyond vital signs, insisting that she had no physical injuries but refusing to comment past that. It was clear she was in at least some amount of pain, despite her attempts to hide it.

Even at Carlisle's offer to bring in an OBGYN he implicitly trusted, who was both female and would be discreet, Bella was still terrified that an exam could somehow trigger Charlie finding out what had happened to her — a prospect that seemed to horrify her.

Carlisle didn't like it any more than Edward did that Bella was refusing medical care, but they could hardly force her, nor would either of them have the heart to try. They both knew she wasn't bleeding, at least. There were some advantages to being a vampire — if she was bleeding, they would have both known it.

She also vehemently refused any type of crisis counseling, as Carlisle and Alice both repeatedly offered, even if it was over the phone. And in truth, Edward wasn't sure how effective it could be, anyway — not when she would be forced to lie about everything from the identity of her attacker to the tiniest detail of what had happened to her, all to protect _him_ and his family's true identities.

Not even the best therapists had experience with women who'd been attacked by shapeshifters posing as the vampire mates who abandoned them and broke their hearts.

If he truly believed it would have helped her, he wouldn't have cared what the consequences of exposure were. He'd have kidnapped her one last time, to drag her there himself, and he'd have told her to tell the full truth and let him worry about the repercussions. But he knew how that would end: with a diagnosis of delusions and Bella being committed to a mental institution.

They were on their own — his family and Bella, to be exact, because he had no current intentions of going anywhere near her, not when he'd clearly heard her asking Jacob for help to keep him away from her.

Alice was trying. She and Carlisle had speed-read everything they could get their hands on about how to help her. He was paying attention when they did.

But Bella, as he well knew, could be very, very stubborn when she wanted to be. It didn't matter what the textbooks said. She wasn't talking until she decided she was ready.

She also seemed to have her mind made up that she wasn't going back to sleep, not without the pills that she politely asked Carlisle for several times before giving up, a panicked look on her face when his 'no' held firm.

In fact, Bella fought sleep so valiantly that Edward soon found himself wishing — near _praying —_ that she could just relax and get some rest.

But Bella sleeping, he eventually learned, was a double-edged sword. It had the tendency to be a hundred times worse than Bella _not_ sleeping.

Because within only a few restless hours of sleep after she finally couldn't fight it anymore, she would wake up every time, fighting...screaming his name.

He stayed put. It was impossible to tell whether she was screaming for him to save her, or screaming for him to stop hurting her.

Did it even really matter? He didn't dare approach her to find out. Not when he truly believed that her words when she came to after the sleeping pills had been a plea to Jacob to keep him away from her.

He didn't come off the roof for the better part of two days, determined that he deserved to hear every second of what she went through inside. He dug his fingers into the shingles and endured it, his teeth grinding and his eyes staring straight ahead.

Even had he been capable of tears, he wouldn't have allowed them to fall. That would be another blessed release he didn't feel he deserved.

Things might have continued in that vein forever if not for the familiar hand that eventually landed on his shoulder.

Esme.

He hadn't even noticed when she arrived home.

And he hated himself for that, too, because what if the presence approaching had been not Esme but _him_? Albert. The monster of his own making that was after Bella.

When Bella was screaming in terror, he wasn't even effective as a guard, apparently.

Esme sat beside him on the roof for a long time, hours, not saying a word. Just waiting. Her thoughts were nonspecific, but it was clear she was thrilled to have him home, despite his current state. And she was worried about him.

Rosalie was home too, he finally noticed. And she was pissed. That wasn't unusual. What did surprise him was that she was pissed on his behalf...and on Bella's. He hadn't heard Rosalie so murderous since she first woke up as a vampire, hellbent on revenge. She didn't go near Bella or even speak to her. But she had fiercely decided she would help protect her, just the same. He was grateful.

He also now knew what Rosalie and Esme had gone to Seattle to observe.

Newborn vampires. Just a handful of them, five or so. But they were on a rampage, their violence seemingly unchecked, in a way that was chilling because it could eventually bring the Volturi far too close to Forks for comfort — especially if their creator wasn't finished yet. Another threat to Bella was a thing he couldn't handle right then, especially a threat like the Volturi.

Esme and Rosalie had not been able to ascertain who had sired the newborns, not before Carlisle called and suggested they return home to help keep watch over Bella, as well as to help manage _him_.

Slowly, with that mystery to focus on, the last of his shock started to wear off. He turned to look at Esme beside him, finally truly focusing on her, and she smiled.

"Come with me, son. Your Bella is safe in the house with Carlisle and your sisters, for now, and we won't be going far. I have something I need to show you."

* * *

If it was anyone other than Esme, whose thoughts told him exactly what he had done to her, as well, when he took off for Brazil, he'd have refused to budge.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was the woman he had called Mother for nearly a century and whom he had already hurt deeply. Bella was, indeed, safe inside what amounted to a vampire fortress, with one werewolf and three vampires to protect her — Carlisle, Alice, and Rosalie.

And he was certainly no use, not if venturing inside could lead to Bella trying to swallow a handful of sleeping pills to escape his presence again.

So when Esme jumped off the roof and landed lightly on the ground, beckoning him to follow, he went.

She led him to a small cottage in the woods, just off the outskirts of their property. It was ramshackle, run down, in desperate need of maintenance. A _lot_ of maintenance.

They were close enough to the main Cullen house that he could still hear the thoughts of his family and Jacob, if he so chose. He wouldn't have wanted to stray any farther from Bella. But they were still far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear spoken voices, at least not at normal conversational tone. If someone were to raise their voice, he should still hear it.

He would definitely hear screams.

Esme unexpectedly produced a key and walked right up to the front door, turning it in the lock and pushing the door open. It creaked horribly.

"Come inside. I want to show you something."

The inside wasn't in much better condition, but strangely, he found it soothing. There was something calming about the inside of the empty little house. It had great potential. The type of place he might have some day dreamed of sharing with Bella. It was cozy. Small without feeling cramped. _Homey._

God, he had wanted something like that with her so badly he could taste it, before everything fell apart.

His suspicious eyes landed on Esme, whose thoughts immediately gave her up. She was nearly without guile, so keeping him out of her head was not a thing she generally attempted. She truly had nothing to hide.

"I bought it," she told him, her eyes smiling. "Nearly a year ago now. I intended it as a wedding gift for you and Bella. Alice told me you were getting ready to ask her, not long before you left. She and I were going to fix it up and surprise you. Or surprise Bella, at any rate, and _try_ to surprise you. But I think now it might serve a different purpose."

His brow furrowed, confused, trying to piece together the disjointed fragments of ideas in her mind. "You think I should stay here. Clean it up."

Esme walked toward him and took his hand. He tensed but didn't pull away this time. "No. I want you to come home. But if you refuse to do that so long as you believe Bella fears you, as Alice has told me you will, then this is the next best option. It's certainly better than staying on the roof forever. You would still be close enough to protect her, and you would have something to occupy your time. We could take turns helping you, if you like, after your brothers return."

He looked around, defeated, and sighed. "What's the point, Esme? If Bella's afraid of me, what does this place even matter?"

Esme reached up and smoothed his hair. "Maybe it doesn't. But then again, maybe it does. Maybe it would help you remember that no matter how bad things look, they can always be fixed if one is willing to put in the work."

He ruthlessly pushed down the surge of hope her words sparked within him. "What if some things can't be fixed?"

He wasn't talking about the house, and Esme knew it.

She smiled at him, giving him one last thing to think about before she turned to walk away, leaving him to his thoughts. "Then again, what if they can?"

She left him there, hoping he would stay, which he humored her by doing so, at least for the moment.

Experimentally, he tested his senses. He could still hear Esme's hopeful thoughts all the way back to the main house, almost as if they faded the farther away she got. He could hear Jacob too, alternately worrying about Bella and grousing about the smell of vampires. At this distance, even Jacob's thoughts were at a tolerable level, rather than being screamed at him.

That much was welcome. He'd had quite enough of Jacob's ruminations on what it felt like to hold Bella in his arms when she broke down in tears after her nightmares, the feel of her chest crushed up against his.

The surge of violence that coursed through him at that thought was sobering. Esme was right. He needed something to occupy his time. Every second he sat on the roof listening to Jacob inside his room with Bella, the possibility of him flying through the window in a jealous rage and making things even worse by attempting to peel Jacob's skin from his body only increased.

That knowledge still wouldn't have been enough to make him stay. He was still going to walk right back out the door, Esme's wishes notwithstanding, and return to his post at the main house.

But her parting words rang in his ears, giving him pause.

He had a tendency toward the pessimistic and dramatic. He knew this about himself. Emmett was quite fond of pointing it out.

But he also knew that he'd never wanted anything as much in his very long life as he wanted a stable future with Bella. He _wanted_ to be optimistic about that. Even now, knowing about Albert — knowing how very much he didn't deserve her _—_ that spark of hope in him refused to die.

Esme's words — the thought of a _home_ belonging to him and Bella — resonated strongly. He couldn't so easily walk back out the door of what should have been his and Bella's home one day. He couldn't bring himself to just give up on it. To do so would feel almost like giving up on _her._

He was still weighing optimism against reality when his phone chirped in his pocket. He pulled it out and stilled when he read the screen.

_Everything you need to get started is already in the basement — spackle, tools, and primer. You'll be glad you did. Love, Alice_

That cryptic assurance tipped the scale. Alice had a hand in this. If she still saw the slightest possibility of his chance for a happy future in this house — translation: one involving Bella — he was going to take it.

It would be a welcome change to fix something, for once, instead of destroying it. And there was one decided advantage to the modern world over the era of his birth: anything he didn't already know how to do himself, he could easily do an internet search and figure it out.

* * *

It was past 2 in the morning, hours after Esme left him alone, that his world next turned upside down.

He had already finished patching up the bathroom walls and priming them, and he was just starting to clean and prep the smaller of the bedrooms to repeat that process — at human speed, because he was milking this illusion of normalcy for all it was worth — when he heard a familiar mind approaching from outside.

It had been all quiet from the main house for hours. Bella was surely asleep and had not yet woken screaming. He'd tried to respectfully tune out the rest of his family's thoughts from their own rooms — especially the more amorous ones from Carlisle and Esme, who had recently been reunited after her trip to Seattle. Jacob was out cold, and Alice had found it necessary to go for a quick hunt, after spending so much time with Bella the past 48 hours.

He stayed out of Rosalie's head, as per his usual habit, just on general principle and personal preference.

But he was keeping his ears open to any sound of trouble — he had already tested the theory that he'd hear any voices over normal conversational level. He was also listening for any unfamiliar minds appearing within his range, so he had it covered. If something were to go wrong, there would be no way he could miss it, or so he thought.

So the fact that Rosalie seemed to suddenly pop up out of nowhere, just at the edge of the woods, her brain screaming ' _Edward and Alice are going to kill me for this_ ', was not exactly comforting. She was headed his way at top speed.

Fear gripped him by the throat. Something must have happened with Bella — what other reason would he have for wanting to commit murder?

He dropped his paintbrush back into the tray with very little concern for the splatters it left, dashed to the front door, wrenched it open...

And then he froze into place immediately, because Bella was standing on his doorstep.

Her scent hit him like a wrecking ball in the fresh air, no longer obscured by the paint fumes he'd been breathing in the unventilated rooms, a smell strong enough that it had hidden her approach.

She was wearing blue jeans and a soft hoodie Alice had brought from her house, and aside from the split lip and bruising on her face, she looked so much like her normal self that it squeezed his heart like a vise.

And he'd come alarmingly close to running right over her.

Her hand had been raised to knock, but she startled and jumped back a step at his abrupt appearance. Her eyes went wide, and her heartrate accelerated wildly. He couldn't even imagine what she must think. He probably looked like a madman, the way he'd been poised to plow right through her before he _thank God_ registered her presence just in time.

He probably didn't look any better than she did. His jaw was hanging open, and he was more than a little horrified at having scared her again. "Bella! I — my God — I'm so sorry. I was just —"

He was just what? He had no clue.

_Make a fool of yourself if that's really you, Edward,_ he heard his sister's sarcastic thoughts, and was reminded of Rosalie's presence. She hadn't stayed at the door with Bella. She'd hurriedly dropped her off at the door and then wisely retreated to the edge of the woods out of sight, all too aware he was going to be angry with what she had done. But she had at least stuck around long enough to verify he was really Edward and not the impostor.

Just the fact that he glared directly out at a hidden Rosalie over Bella's head, when he heard her thoughts, was proof enough of his identity for Rosalie. If he wasn't so painfully aware of a nervous Bella two feet in front of him, he'd have been fiercely snarling at his sister. Of all the reckless, dangerous stunts she could have pulled, to bring Bella out of the house alone, unprotected... to drag a terrified Bella there and force her to face him...

_Chill, Edward_ , Rosalie thought in his direction. _This was her doing. The girl's been about to come out of her skin for over 48 hours now, worrying that you took off again. The others were all stonewalling her, so she came to me. That took some guts. Trust me, it was either this or she was going to come looking for you herself._

It wasn't that he thought Rosalie would lie to him, necessarily, but he knew her well enough to know that she would definitely paint the picture the way that made her look best. So as she was "explaining," he did a deeper dive into her memory of the events than he would normally find palatable.

If she had done this against Bella's will, in any way... he had no idea what he might actually be capable of.

But Rosalie was telling him the truth. This _was_ all Bella's doing, and Rosalie was all too happy to let him see that through her eyes.

Bella had waited until Jacob was asleep and Alice was gone. And then there had been an almost inaudible knock at Rosalie's door. She'd opened it to find a very nervous-looking Bella, fully dressed down to her shoes and hoodie, with a shaking finger over her lips as if begging Rosalie not to say anything that would out her intentions to the rest of the house.

She looked so scared in Rosalie's memory that it twisted his guts up.

She'd handed Rosalie a tiny scrap of paper with a trembling hand, because she was smart enough to know she couldn't whisper quietly enough to evade vampire hearing.

He caught a glimpse of that note in Rose's memory.

_I have to see him. Please — will you help me?_

Rosalie, he was a little surprised to see, had been deeply impressed. That didn't happen often, and certainly not in relation to Bella.

Impressed enough, in fact, that she had picked up Bella without a word and went straight out the window with her, only a few moments before dropping her at his door.

His anger with Rosalie fled. She had indeed believed that Bella intended to sneak out at her first opportunity to go looking for him herself, and he knew from experience just how frighteningly possible that prospect was if Bella had made up her mind. This was by far the better course.

The very thought of her venturing out by herself to look for him was enough by itself to drive him mad. Did she not understand the danger? Did she not realize what could happen to her without the protection of either him or his family, or even Jacob? Albert was still out there somewhere, and he could likely look like _anybody_.

But even that paled in comparison to the more important question: after what had happened the last time he saw her, when she had seemingly begged Jacob to keep him away from her, why was Bella willingly within a hundred miles of him — much less alone with him in the dark?

What if she reacted badly to him again? He briefly panicked and considered yelling for Rosalie to come back, but it was a little late for that. Rosalie was already halfway back to the main house, already on the phone with Emmett, whom she hadn't seen in days, and it was far past time to tune _that_ out.

So he turned his eyes back toward Bella, who had been waiting patiently for him to finish his one-sided "conversation" with Rosalie. She'd seen him do it enough times to know what was happening, he realized, and something about that hit him directly in the heart.

She _knew_ him. Knew what he was and all of his unique eccentricities, and she simply accepted them. She always had. In his 100-plus years, he could say that of very few. None aside from his family.

How had he ever thought he could stay away, no matter how much he didn't deserve her? Something so simple as this, and he was putty in her hands.

Her gaze hit him with a near physical impact. Just the fact that she was there in front of him, actually looking at him steadily, near took his breath away.

She smiled at him, when she realized she had his full attention, but it was a nervous smile. "Hi."

"Hi," he managed to respond, and it was time to pull himself together before he scared her off. His eyes were drinking her in like she was water and he'd just crawled across the desert. Not really the relaxed atmosphere he should probably be going for if he wanted to set her at ease. Which he did, he realized, more than anything — his own earlier promises to himself to stay away from her notwithstanding.

Her eyes glanced past him, past his arm that blocked the doorway like he was afraid she would try to break in, peeking into the rundown cottage. "May I come in?"

The fact that she asked that like she was a little afraid his answer might be _no_ — it damn near broke his heart. He dropped his arm and stepped aside so fast that he was momentarily afraid he might have startled her again. "Of course. I'm sorry. Yes, come in. Please."

It was awkward, and it was tense, and he was way too formal, especially when she carefully made her way through the door. Nervousness radiated off of her in near tangible waves as she stepped past him. He tried not to obsess over why. Even ignoring what had happened to her, they had still barely seen one another in seven months. And of course, what happened to her _couldn't_ be ignored.

He edged even farther to the side as she passed, gave her a little space.

She stopped a few steps inside, standing with her back to him and the door, just looking around the cottage's empty little living room for so long that he felt compelled to break the silence.

"I could leave the door open, if you'd be more comfortable..." he offered, but his voice trailed off uncertainly.

She at least turned to look at him, her brow furrowing. "No. It's okay. I won't stay long."

He wasn't sure what that meant, and it only increased the heavy tension in his frame.

It had been wildly encouraging that Bella was so determined to find him. But with that declaration from her that this would be a brief visit, he was getting worried.

The utterly crushing thought had just occurred to him that her reason for seeking him out could very well be to formally end things between them, once and for all.

If his heart hadn't already splintered into millions of pieces, more times than he could count in the past months, it would have then. Because that possibility made far more sense than any other reason he could think of for her to be there.

His voice wasn't cooperating, so he just nodded noncommittally in reply, before closing the door as gently as he could. He stepped away from in front of it, moving back toward the center of the room, giving her a clear exit route that he could not honestly say he was fully willing to let her use. But he didn't want her to feel trapped, either. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

_No...please don't do this_ , his heart screamed. _Don't tell me it's over. Not here, not in what should have been our first home. Please...give me another chance. I won't fail you again, I swear it..._

He said none of that. He felt like a condemned man, waiting for the door of the gallows to drop from beneath his feet.

"I smell paint," Bella said, unexpectedly, and it threw him so completely that it loosened his tongue.

"Oh. Um, yeah. I was painting. One of the other rooms, I mean. Not this one."

Well, it had loosened his tongue _slightly_. Apparently, he still wasn't capable of much more than stating the blatantly obvious. Bella was holding all the cards, and until she decided to show them, he was at an utter loss.

"What is this place, anyway?" she asked curiously.

His hand went to the back of his neck as he looked away. A nervous half-chuckle escaped him. He considered hiding the truth, feeling a little concerned about her reaction. But his on-again/off-again tell-Bella-the-truth policy was apparently on again.

He might still leave out some of the details, like exactly why a honeymoon cottage would have been necessary for them, had he wed her and changed her like he had wanted.

"It's, um... it was originally supposed to be for us."

He finally managed to make eye contact, one nervous hand still rubbing the back of his neck, and counted it a success that she only looked confused. He'd take confused over horrified.

"Us?"

He got it it. He did. But Bella's newfound desire to have everything spelled out in no uncertain terms had a way of making things uncomfortable.

"Yeah. You and me."

She was nodding her head slowly, biting her lip, giving the empty room a closer look as she processed that information. Not for the first time in the last few days, he would have gladly traded one of his limbs to be able to hear her thoughts.

"So you own it?" she asked, after a moment, when she turned back toward him.

He watched her carefully. She seemed merely curious, if a bit guarded, so he indulged her.

"Something like that. Technically, it belongs to Esme. She and Alice originally planned to give it to us as an eventual wedding gift. But I've decided to go ahead and buy it from Esme myself, fix it up."

And that was true. He'd texted Esme an hour after he started working on it and expressed that intention. For him, that was the very height of optimism. And it had thrilled his mother to no end, although she'd have preferred just to give it to him.

But he liked the symbolism of paying for it himself, doing the work with his own two hands — buying and building a home for the girl that he still hoped to bring there someday and carry over the threshold as his wife. That imagery appealed strongly to his early 1900s human side, the man he would have been had it not been for the Spanish Influenza.

Just as he had been starting to slightly relax into the conversation, Bella's demeanor suddenly became as uncomfortable as he had felt originally. Her hands clenched into fists and disappeared into the hoodie pockets; she shifted her weight, drifted away from him a step.

"You mean, you're buying it just for yourself?" She searched his face expectantly, fidgeted nervously.

The only thing he was certain of was that there was a right answer to that question and a very wrong answer. He just had no clue which was which. Did she want to know if he still intended it for the two of them? Because he most certainly did. Would that knowledge please her or terrify her?

He decided to go with the simple truth again, for lack of clear direction otherwise.

"For now, yes, it's for me. I just thought it might make things easier for you if I stayed down here for a little while."

The pure hurt that filled her face had him taking a step in her direction. He'd been trying to set her at ease. Instead, he'd misstepped somewhere terribly, again, and he wasn't sure where.

"I see." She wasn't looking at him anymore, and she was backing away, in the direction of the door. Were those tears in her eyes?

"Bella?" he tried desperately, but got no response. "Please wait."

He barely managed to keep his feet planted, after that initial step toward her. Grabbing her would probably be one of the worst things he could do right then, but he was equally sure that letting her run out that door without fixing whatever he'd just broken might actually be worse.

"I should go," she half-whispered, her cheeks flaming red. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

And his time to decide what to do was up, because she had turned around and started walking toward the door at a rapid pace.

Her running from him was bad on many levels, not the least of which was that it fired off every predatory instinct he possessed to give chase. He put that side of his nature firmly in check, at least enough that he managed to keep his hands off her. Instead, when he easily beat her to the door, he stood to the side and held his wrist out to block the door handle, not even putting his body between her and the door.

It was the least restrictive he could manage, at the moment, but still not enough.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes going wide as she took a step back from the door, staring up at him in undisguised fear.

"Edward?" she sounded terrified, her eyes scanning his face frantically like she was looking for the most minute difference. He knew exactly what she was looking for, what she was afraid of.

He took his hand off the doorknob at once, held his hands out to his sides, forced himself to keep his voice calm when what he really wanted to do was put his fist through the door in unbridled frustration. He'd managed to scare her twice already, just in the brief time since Rosalie dropped her at his door.

"It's me, Bella. You didn't hear it, but Rosalie made sure it was really me before she left, okay? If you want to leave, I'll escort you safely back to the main house myself, or I can call Rose or Esme to come get you, if you prefer. I only want to know what happened. What did I say to upset you?"

His calm tone and his honesty worked, regardless of the fact that he was truly anything but calm. Bella still seemed just as upset, her eyes still teary, but the fear had mercifully disappeared, at least, now that she had been reassured he was really him. She took a deep, calming breath — and then proceeded to knock the breath right out of him with three little sentences.

"You don't have to buy another house, Edward," she told the floor between them, and her refusal to look at him was going to be what drove him over the edge, if her words didn't accomplish it first. Her voice was suffused with such bitter hurt that it made his heart ache in sympathy. "I'll ask Jacob to take me home with him tomorrow morning. You can have your room back."

Just the suggestion of her going home with Jacob, out of both his sight and his reach, was nearly his undoing. The urge to grab her and hold on for dear life grew stronger, redoubled itself, nearly consumed him. He put his hands on his own hips instead.

She had come to _him_ tonight, he reminded himself sternly, and apparently _not_ to end things if she was so hurt about him moving out of the main house. His heart soared with that thought. All hope wasn't lost, at least if he could find it in himself to handle this the right way. Which included neither beating his head against the wall nor yanking her up against him and trying to kiss the absurd insecurities right out of her. Both of which were too tempting.

"You think I'm staying out here because I'm trying to get away from you." It wasn't a question, really. More of a mystified, very confusing statement of fact, because he knew it was true but _how_ could she think that? She answered it anyway.

"Aren't you?" Her face was still flaming. Her chin went up, and a spark of defiant challenge entered her eyes. He was glad to see it, honestly, that fight in her — even if he could practically see the walls going up around her heart, with him on the outside. "I haven't seen you for two days, but you've been this close the whole time? You have your family lie to me about where you are? I mean, I don't understand. If you want to be away from me so badly, why did you even come back? You could have just stayed in Brazil. Or you could have just sent me to Jacob's house in the first place. At least he _wants_ me there."

That did it. Edward's jaw clenched with determination, because this was an issue they were clearing up, and they were doing it right then. He'd made this particular mistake for the last time.

Bella was obviously volatile and unpredictable at the moment, insecure in the extreme, and she had every right to be. She'd been through hell, both by his abandonment of her and then her subsequent attack by a monster with his own face. The chances were high that he would upset her again, at some point, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be because she thought he didn't care. He took a step closer. His voice was firm.

"Bella, I _do_ want you here, and I want that a great deal more than Jacob Black is even capable of. The _only_ reason I left you all those months ago was that I thought I was protecting you. I'm only staying out here now because I know you feel safer without me in the house. You said so yourself."

Her confusion was unfeigned. He didn't have to be able to read her mind to see that. "I never said anything like that!"

"You did," he countered, gently. "You asked Jacob to keep me away from you."

She seemed angry, almost livid. "No, I did not! Did he tell you that?"

This was quickly spiraling out of control. Her heart was racing, her body starting to tremble with rage. He held his hands out, palms facing her. He kept his tone soft, non-confrontational.

"He didn't have to. I heard it myself. I'm not trying to argue with you, Bella. I'm sure you don't remember, and you didn't even realize I was there to hear it. But you told him the reason you overdosed on sleeping pills was because of me, because you didn't want me here."

Her eyes slammed shut, a fresh blush spreading up her chest. "Oh my God." She looked legitimately horrified.

He wanted to give her an out, tell her he understood, that he didn't blame her for not wanting him near her — anything to get that guilty, self-loathing look off of her face. But she beat him to the punch, so instantly contrite that he could barely take it.

"I'm so, so sorry, Edward. I don't remember any of that. It was a really stupid thing to do, I know. But I didn't take the extra pills because you were there. I did it because I didn't want you to hear me when...when I slept. The last seven months, with you gone, I — I just haven't slept well. I didn't want you to notice and...and blame yourself."

She didn't come right out and admit to her nighttime terrors — she definitely was still downplaying things for his sake, and they needed to have a serious conversation about that — but the pieces clicked together in his head as he replayed both Jacob's and her exact words over again in his mind.

" _Were you trying to kill yourself?"_

_"No...I had to...he's here...can't let him hear...help me...can't let him hear."_

Not "here". _Hear._ Don't let him _hear._

That revelation, combined with the fact that he already _knew_ why she had taken the pills the first time around, after James...

"You were afraid you would have a nightmare in front of me," he breathed, and saw the truth of it when she guiltily looked away, biting her lip. The realization floored him. "That's also why you didn't want to go back to sleep without being sedated. You were...trying to protect me."

She bit her lip, and then shyly offered him the same gift of complete honesty he'd been trying and failing since the beginning of the whole ordeal to give her.

"Yes and no. I mean, I didn't want to hurt you. But mostly, I was afraid you would blame yourself and leave again. That's what scares me most."

He was reeling. Bella had _swallowed an overdose of sleeping pills_ to keep him from hearing something she thought would hurt him. Because she was afraid of him leaving her. Because that was even more frightening to her than the vengeful vampires bent on assaulting and murdering her.

He couldn't have loved her or hated himself more than he did in that moment, wallowing in the realization that when he had been torturing himself by giving her the space he had truly believed she needed, he had inadvertently been torturing _her_ too _,_ making her terrified at every moment that he was about to disappear — which he had then done anyway, and managed to hurt her again in the process.

He nearly groaned with frustration. His guilt was his own and well deserved. But he had let it hurt Bella, too, and that was unforgivable.

Another frightening thought danced fleetingly across his awareness: if she had kept quiet about both her nightmares and the trauma he'd caused by his abandonment, what else was she hiding to protect him?

He intended to find out, but not right then. For now, putting an end to the pain he'd been causing her took top priority.

He took one more step closer, so close he could feel the warmth coming off of her. He didn't touch her, but he held her gaze captive, intentionally drawing her in — he wasn't above trying to dazzle her if it kept her eyes on him. This was too important.

"I want you to listen to me," he told her earnestly. "I'm not going anywhere — not ever again."

A flash of guilt crossed his mind that that might not be completely truthful. Because if he found no other way to stop Albert and Victoria, he had not taken going to the Volturi off the table. His life wasn't too high a price to pay to protect her — not from what Albert Rowe would surely do to her. But that was the only way he'd leave her, now that he knew she wanted him there. And for the first time, he was willing to trust that Alice was right, that he had already changed the future once and he could do it again.

"I'm right here, and I'm staying," he emphasized again, as much for his own benefit as hers. "So you don't have to hide anything from me, Bella. I already knew you would likely have nightmares, and I know they're going to be about me. I'm so sorry that you have to go through that. But all I really want is to be there for you when you do."

Her eyes filled up with tears, her teeth twisting her lower lip. She wanted to believe him. He could see it in her eyes. But she had been hurt deeply by his absence — both of his absences: the one in Brazil and, more recently, since he'd been home. That hurt and disbelief in her eyes twisted his heart into knots.

"Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life," he dropped his tone to barely above a whisper, quiet and intimate. "I know that now. I nearly destroyed us both, and I can never take that back. I'd give absolutely anything to undo it, sweetheart, but I can't. What I can do is swear to you that I will _never_ fail you like that again."

"No," she told him, her face stricken, panicked. "Don't do that! Don't make promises to me. I can't take it."

And that hurt, but he couldn't say he didn't understand. He had broken so many, though not intentionally. But that ended, here and now.

Ever so slowly, giving her time to see his intention and stop him if she wanted, he brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek. It felt like electricity sparking through his entire body when he finally made contact. It was the first time he'd touched her since returning home, at least that she had been coherent and aware of. His thumb softly brushed the bruised skin on her cheek — a sight that still shot murderous violence through him like a drug. He ignored it, keeping his tone gentle.

"I know it's going to take time for you to trust me again, but I need you to believe me on this one point: You are _all_ I care about, my only priority. There's nothing and nowhere in this world for me without you. It doesn't have to be a promise, if you prefer. But I won't leave you again, Bella — not now that I know you want me to stay."

He lost her gaze. She tilted her head down, looking away from him uneasily — a sure sign there was still something bothering her.

"What is it?" he asked, so gently that she actually glanced back up. He drew her a little closer, brought his other hand up so that he framed her face in both his hands with the lightest touch imaginable, tilting her chin back up toward him. "Tell me." He smiled softly in encouragement.

"When you first came home..." she started and then trailed off, shaking her head, like she thought better of whatever she was about to say.

He caressed her soft skin with his thumbs. "Whatever it is, love, you can say it, even if you think it might hurt me. I'm not going anywhere."

She drew a shaky breath, but took him at his word, which he counted a victory. "You said — when I asked you if you were staying, you said you would stay as long as I asked you to. I just don't want — I mean..."

Understanding dawned. "You're afraid that I'm only staying out of some sense of obligation," he murmured, and the full weight of what he had put her through hit him square in the chest.

He knew it was true even before she nodded nervously, trying to peek at him from under her lashes, like she was afraid to look at him when he confirmed her worst fears.

"Or pity," she admitted quietly.

He'd be damned if he wasn't going to get through to her, once and for all.

"Isabella Marie Swan, I'd marry you this moment if I thought you would have me," he told her sincerely and watched her eyes widen.

He'd started this. He was seeing it through.

"I've wanted that for a very long time, and nothing has changed for me. If you don't believe me, you should go through my dresser drawers when you get back to my room tonight. You'll find a small gold giftbox with your name on it, one that I had been planning to give you very soon, before I had to leave. I might have even worked up the courage to give it to you on your birthday that night, if all of this hadn't happened. You're welcome to open it, but I'll tell you what's inside. It's a little black box, holding my mother's wedding ring. And it's yours the very moment you want it."

Pure panic was blooming across her features. "Edward, I — I don't...I can't..."

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her, but he stayed close. "I know you're not ready now," he told her calmly. "I'm not trying to overwhelm you. My point is that I've never stopped loving you, we will get through this together, and I'll still be here when you _are_ ready, no matter how long that takes. So in short, you _are_ welcome here, Bella, in my room or in this cottage or anywhere else I am — very welcome. And you're completely safe with me. You do know that, don't you?"

He was supposed to be the one assuring her, but his own insecurities spilled out with that last pleading question. He needed to hear her say she wasn't afraid of him — needed it with a desperation that consumed him.

The uncertainty that filled her eyes was sobering. But again, she seemed determined to tell him the truth.

"Yes. I know that. I mean, my head knows it." She hesitated, her lip trembling in a way that made his guts clench because he knew something horrible was coming. "But Edward, he..." she stopped, closing her eyes on a shudder.

"He looked exactly like me," he said for her, quietly, not wanting to make her say it. "I know. I know, and I'm so sorry."

Her eyes opened, and the distress in them tore at his heart. The breathless terror in her voice was worse.

"No! I mean, yes, but not just that. He made me...he made me say your name. Over and over. He made me look in his eyes and say your name when he...when he hurt me."

Edward's eyes slammed shut and he inhaled sharply, as he found himself unexpectedly fighting for control over his rage again. He hadn't expected the discussion to turn toward details of her attack in _any_ way — not tonight — much less that particular punch to the gut.

That detail hadn't been part of Jacob's memories, either. That implied that the worst of her attack hadn't begun just moments before Jacob arrived on the scene, as he had fervently hoped. This was new information, and the cruelty of it was horrifying.

"Bella..." he whispered, his voice a plea, not even sure what he was pleading for. For her to tell him more, or to stop.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "I shouldn't have told you that."

That was all it took for him to push his own feelings aside. She was his everything, the love of his life, his _mate_ — his to protect and take care of. And right now, she needed him to be strong.

He opened his eyes and focused on her. "No. That's exactly the kind of thing you _should_ tell me," he replied softly, if not altogether steadily. "I'm sorry. You took me by surprise, that's all. Why don't we sit down, Bella? We should talk."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	11. Construction

Chapter 11

There was no furniture in the empty living room, so Edward gestured in the direction of the stone fireplace. Bella was still looking at him with a worried expression, like she was afraid she had said too much. For just a second, he was afraid she was about to try to bolt on him again, and his fingers twitched with the urge to stop her. But the moment passed, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she walked deeper into the room instead of running for the door.

She sat down very gingerly on the edge of the hearth — and still winced when she landed. It was subtle, but he was laser focused on her every reaction, so he caught it. It confirmed his fears that Bella was hiding more than just her nightmares. He had the terrified feeling he was about to find out what.

She had sat down toward the far right edge of the fireplace, but he was done overcompensating and unwittingly bolstering her insecurities. He sat toward the middle, still with a foot or so of space between them, but he didn't try to hang off the opposite end from her, either.

He had expected to have to prompt her, but she gripped the edges of the stone beside her hips, and launched right back in, her eyes huge and locked on him.

"I didn't figure out he wasn't you until right before he attacked me. I did believe he was you, at first. I'm so sorry, Edward. I know I should have known. Every time he touched me or kissed me, I knew it didn't feel right. But he looked just like you. He _sounded_ just like you. I wanted it to be you so much."

He was initially so preoccupied with the rage-inducing revelation that Albert had _touched_ her and _kissed_ her, more than once, not to mention her heartbreaking admission that she had desperately wished for his presence, that he almost missed the most important facet of what she was saying...until it slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

This was not Bella confiding in him, as he had initially believed.

No. It was her _confessing._ Pleading for his understanding and forgiveness, for some imagined fault of her own.

And that was more wrong than he could bear.

 _"_ Listen to me," he interjected firmly. "None of this is your fault. You couldn't have possibly known. He's a predator, Bella, and a con man. A murderer. He deceived all of us, myself included. You don't have to apologize for anything, least of all to me."

She looked away from him then, her face crumpling. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what happened," she whispered. "If you knew what I _did."_

"Wouldn't I?" he said seriously, without so much as blinking. "Try me."

Her head shook adamantly, her face still turned away, her expression terrified. _"No._ I can't. You wouldn't want me anymore."

Something very uneasy curled in his gut at that, but he suppressed his urge to interrogate her. He hesitated only for a moment before he reached for her closest hand. Watching her closely, he took her hand gently but securely into his own, effectively bringing her surprised gaze to him. He waited for her to make eye contact as he pulled her hand slightly back in his direction, placing their linked fingers right between them on the hearth and resting them there.

"There is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would ever make that happen," he assured her then, slowly and with great sincerity. "Nothing."

She didn't believe him. He knew it when she shook her head and dropped her gaze to stare at their entwined hands, then quickly went on with her story.

"He didn't hurt me at all until I realized he wasn't you."

So it seemed they were done with the subject of what horrible offense she believed she'd committed that could make him stop loving her, at least for the moment. He had every intention of eventually getting to the bottom of it, down to the last detail, for a few reasons: not only to be sure she was properly taken care of, and not only to prove his unconditional devotion to her and regain her trust, but also to be sure that Albert suffered enough when he finally got his hands on him; to be sure that every last hurt done to Bella was fully recompensed.

She seemed more comfortable with her gaze averted, but at least she didn't try to remove her hand from his grasp. If anything, she held on, and Edward was grateful. He desperately needed the physical contact with her, especially considering the topic. He needed that calming reminder that it was in the past — that she was safe, right there beside him.

"Even after I escaped the cabin and ran away," she continued, "he still pretended he was you when he found me. I know now that I should have played along. I should have just kept my mouth shut, but I didn't. I just kept pushing. I accused him of killing that girl. I told him I knew he wasn't you. I told him you'd kill him. I was so, so stupid."

"You were unbelievably _brave_ ," Edward corrected as steadily as he could, but couldn't entirely hide the tremor in his voice. This was the first he had heard about a cabin or a girl, and the unknown had his guts twisted up in knots. The thought of Bella making an escape attempt, running from and then taunting a sadistic vampire...he ruthlessly suppressed the terror that caused him. "You were strong and brave, and I am so incredibly proud of you."

"It made him furious," Bella continued, but her eyes were back on him now, wildly searching for his every reaction as she grew more agitated. "He wanted to _make_ me believe he was you. He threw me down on the ground. He held me down and — and took away my clothes. He made me look at him and say your name over and over while he...he touched me."

Her tone changed, desperate and pleading. "I had no choice, Edward. He squeezed my throat. He wouldn't let me _breathe_ when I didn't do what he said. He would have killed me if I hadn't."

His teeth ground so hard they were in danger of cracking, but he kept his anger in check. It wasn't directed at Bella. Never at Bella. So he just listened, nodding encouragingly, and kept his fury to himself.

"Yes, he certainly would have," he agreed when she was done. "You did what you had to do to stay alive, love. And I'm glad you did. The rest we can deal with together, okay?"

She shuddered. "He called me that too," she offered, almost as an afterthought, her eyes not quite focusing on him. She was reliving it. _"Love._ He sounded just like you."

Edward clenched his teeth again and added ripping out Albert's tongue to his wish list — near the very top. Right behind squeezing his goddamn throat shut until even his vampire lungs burned for oxygen.

Maybe he would make him say his name when he did it. It'd be the last word the vile creature ever uttered before he slowly lost his tongue, then his dick — one inch at a time — and then his fingers, one by one. And death would still be a long, long damn time coming.

"You mentioned a cabin," Edward diverted carefully, compartmentalizing his wrath before Bella could see it and misconstrue his anger. "A cabin and a girl. Will you tell me about that?"

Bella blinked, looking surprised. "Oh," she breathed. "You wouldn't know about that. I keep forgetting that."

She didn't have to say why. He already knew why.

There _had_ been an Edward there. Just not him.

It confirmed the suspicion he'd been developing the whole time she poured out her story about Albert making her call him _Edward._

Thanks to that son of a bitch's psychological torture, some part of Bella's subconscious still had the two of them very mixed up. Which was likely the point of that entire story, which she'd only poured out in response to his question about her knowing she was safe with him.

She _wasn't_ entirely sure of that fact, at least not all of her. And she knew it. Her nightmares were only further confirmation of that.

As if he didn't already have enough reasons to yearn for Albert's slow and lingering death.

"The cabin was where we went after he took me out of my yard," she was trying to explain. "I'm sorry, but I don't know exactly where it is. It's close to where Jacob found me. I only knew we had to run a long way to get there. He claimed it was yours. Or...or his, I guess?"

And there it was. Further confirmation.

"His," Edward settled the issue quietly, already bracing for the worst. The topic of the cabin had her the most on edge he'd seen her yet — and that was putting _him_ on edge. He concentrated on keeping his touch gentle, not reacting and crushing her hand in his, no matter what horrific thing she told him next. "What happened there, Bella?"

The fingers of her free hand abandoned the edge of the fireplace to clench nervously in her lap. She stared at them intently.

"Um...at first, we just talked. I asked why you left, and you told me."

"Him," he corrected again, keeping his tone calm only with great effort. Even worse than her mixing him up with Albert was that she was obviously stalling now, and that scared the hell out of him. "You asked _him_ — and whatever he told you was a lie. I was never there. I was on a plane home from Brazil at that point, desperate to find you."

Bella closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Right. Of course. I know that."

"What happened in the cabin, sweetheart?" he asked again, very tenderly, while his internal monster ferociously growled the question he was really asking:

_Did that fucker do *anything*_ _to you there. Because so help me God, if he hurt you more than once and I'm just finding out about it now..._

He could barely think it. He belonged right where he was, close to Bella, and letting his brothers track down Albert for him was unquestionably the right move. They would let him know when they found him, and they would hold him until he could get there — that much went without saying. They both understood what he needed to do.

But if Bella told him what he was afraid she was about to say — if Albert had raped her in that cabin, even before what he already knew happened to her later in the woods — he would be willing to tear the entire damn world apart that same night, if that was what it took to exact quick vengeance. It should scare him just how far he would be willing to go, the type of violence he would be capable of.

Bella's answer didn't go in the direction he feared. But the new information was still gut-wrenching.

"We were just there for a while. That was where I started to figure out that something was really wrong. I could see it belonged to a woman, a human woman. There was old food in the refrigerator, and dishes that had been washed. I knew she had a dog. There was dog hair on the couches. Everything personal was gone, but I found a monogrammed cup in the kitchen, and a prescription bottle in the bathroom. The house belonged to a girl named Lacey Matthews."

He saw where this was going now, and his guts clenched. Albert had killed Lacey Matthews and then abducted Bella away to a dead woman's cabin — yet another victim indirectly linked back to Edward himself.

 _Please_ , he thought... _just please don't let Bella have found the body._

"So that's the girl you mentioned," he questioned carefully, "the one you accused him of killing?"

Bella's gaze dropped guiltily. "Yes, but not right then," she said. "At first I thought..." She stopped abruptly, her teeth digging so hard into her lip that it made him wince in sympathy.

He was uncannily certain that whatever she had just thought better of telling him was going to _gut_ him.

And he was equally certain that she needed to say it.

"You thought what, Bella? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I already told you: nothing that happened is your fault."

She shifted slightly away from him, as though subconsciously distancing herself from whatever she was about to say. He let her but kept their hands linked, not willing to let her completely close him out.

"I thought...I wondered if maybe that was where you had been living for all those months. I thought maybe you had found someone else. Someone prettier, or who smelled even better to you. That you had just lost interest in me and moved in with...with her."

He hadn't realized how very deep Bella's insecurities ran, for that to be her first theory. Fueled by insecurity or not, her lack of faith in his love bothered him, whether he'd have ever called her on it or not. That came down to his own failings, as far as he was concerned, not hers — and he was going to rectify that situation. Whatever it took to make her feel secure in his feelings, moving forward, he would do it.

But she still wasn't done.

"Then at some point, I realized you must have killed her."

He flinched — hard. She hadn't even realized her slip-up. _You._ Instead of _him._

"I thought maybe that was the only reason you came back to me, because you lost control and killed her. I was afraid I was next."

She was watching him closely as the terrible words kept spilling out one after another, and he saw it for what it was:

At least subconsciously, she was testing him — seeing how deep his commitment was to his claim that she had done nothing wrong. So he schooled his reaction, just in time for her to deliver the lethal blow.

"I even started to wonder if this was something you did all the time, some kind of sick game. I thought maybe your family was even in on it, that they covered for you; that I was just the last in a long line of...play toys."

If she had looked nervous before, she looked downright terrified now — and yet strangely resigned — completely convinced that he was about to yell at her, leave her...

That he was going to prove every doubt about him true, every fear she had gone through that night at the cabin.

She was _waiting_ for it.

He took a measured breath. "And then what happened?" he asked calmly. "Did you tell him your suspicions?" He slightly emphasized the word 'him', just enough to draw the distinction; not enough to be a rebuke.

But Bella's eyes flooded with tears, her lip trembling. He could feel her fingers shaking in his grasp.

"Stop it," she whispered. "Stop acting so calm. Stop being so _nice_ to me. I don't deserve it."

Just as he had suspected.

"I told you earlier," he said evenly. "There is literally nothing you can say to me that will convince me you were in the wrong in any way. You did the one and only thing I would have asked of you, Bella: you survived."

She looked desperate. "But you should be mad at me! I just told you that I believed the worst of you! I thought you were a _monster!_ I believed your family were murdering monsters — _Carlisle_ and _Esme,_ Edward! I _betrayed_ you. You should never want to see me again!"

She tried to yank her hand away angrily. He held on, bringing her shocked eyes to his. She hadn't expected that, and it gave him a momentary advantage — one he made the most of.

"You saw the evil in _him_ and recognized it for what it was," he said firmly. "That was what you were reacting to. Not me, and not my family." He brought her hand up to his mouth, touched her knuckles to his lips softly. "I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. I'm not going to let you push me away just to punish yourself, when you've done nothing wrong. You can push all you want, Bella, but I'm not going anywhere. I refuse to blame you for anything that happened, no matter what it is."

She was grasping his hand tightly again, instead of trying to pull away, even as she shook her head in denial. Tears started to spill down her cheeks. "But you don't know everything. You don't know what I _did!"_

This again. He was starting to develop a few terrifying ideas about that, actually. There were still a lot of unaccounted for hours in Bella's story. He hadn't missed the dichotomy in her descriptions, either. She had said she knew it felt wrong when Albert _touched_ and _kissed_ her. Those were very different words from what she had said about him making her say his name. She had described that incident as "when he hurt her." Two distinctly separate events.

She had also said he didn't hurt her until she figured out he was a fraud, implying that the touching and kissing came before that point.

Had Bella willingly done something physical with Albert, while she believed him to be Edward? Had she possibly even given her virginity to him? Was that part of why she seemed so upset about the cabin, aside from the unflattering conclusions she'd drawn about him later that night? It would explain why she believed Edward wouldn't want her anymore if he knew. It might also explain her physical pain and why she refused to admit it to anyone, and that was chilling.

As painful as that possibility was, he made up his mind, right then and there, that he wouldn't let it matter either way. He meant what he had told her: none of it would be her fault.

He could also see he wasn't going to get the answer that night. Bella was on the brink. It was time to give her an out, to take her out of the spotlight for the night. He wouldn't push her for any more, not while she was so overwrought, determined to paint herself in the worst possible light. It wouldn't be healing; it would just be destructive.

He was the one who should be confessing, anyway. Not her.

His indiscretion, after all, was far greater than hers could ever be, even if he was right about what she wanted to hide from him. He hadn't yet been fully honest with her about the origin of her attacker, and he was a hypocrite if he waited another moment.

"You don't know what _I_ did," he countered. "It's only fair that I tell you now, so that you can decide whether _you_ are able to forgive _me_. I hope that you can — because I'm more certain than ever that I can't live without you. But either way, I'll certainly never forgive myself."

That caught her attention, at least. "What are you talking about?" She sounded frightened, as well she should.

He released her hand after a gentle squeeze, and then clasped his own palms together between his spread knees, looking down at them. To touch her while discussing the darkest shame of his existence — he didn't want to defile her that way. He wanted to hold her as far separate from his darkness as possible.

"I told you once, about the period of time I rebelled against Carlisle and went out on my own. I told you the type of men I killed."

"Yes." Her heart beat faster. He heard it. Almost as if some part of her already knew.

He looked up, looked her in the eye. He owed her that much, at least. "The vampire who attacked you was merely one of those men, once. A predator, certainly, but mortal. _Limited._ And then I came across him one night, decades ago."

It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, as she stared into his eyes, trying to comprehend something so horrible.

But her first reaction was not the one he expected.

"You told me you didn't know who he is," she said, horrified, referring to their conversation in the bathroom the night she'd run from him. The shocked betrayal in her eyes frightened him. She was looking at him like she didn't even know who he was.

Her fears and doubts that she'd gone through about him during her abduction were not quite a thing of the past yet, he understood with sudden clarity. Some part of Bella was very much still stuck in that nightmare cabin, trying to figure out if she was with friend or foe; mate or monster. His abandonment of her had shaken her trust in him to the core, regardless of his reasons. And only time and a great deal of patient effort on his part was going to fix that.

"I only learned of his identity today, from Alice," Edward pled, his eyes imploring. "When you asked me, I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't. I'm guilty of many things, Bella, but I haven't lied to you about any of this. I _wouldn't_. Especially not when answers are the only thing you've asked of me."

She accepted that, to his relief, the betrayed look leaving her. But then he saw the moment she began to process the worst of it.

"So when he told me that you tried to kill him once already..." she said. Her voice was trembling as she made the connection. "Oh, Edward, _no_..."

"I created him, Bella," he confessed hoarsely, his tortured eyes locked with her wide ones. "I thought he was dead, and I was wrong. I must have left him with just enough blood and venom to start the change. He only came after you to get his revenge against me. Everything that happened to you...it's all because of me."

Her face disappeared into her hands, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. He wasn't sure he still had the right.

"I have no idea how he and Victoria found one another," he continued quietly. "All I know is that they both want to hurt _you_ to get at me. And they already have once. I have to live with that for the rest of my existence, no matter what happens now. So you see, Bella, how could I blame you for anything you may have done under duress or deception? Not when this is all my fault from the very beginning."

When her hands stayed over her face, hiding her from him for far too long, his eyes closed in resignation.

"I will fully understand if you want nothing more to do with me," he offered, the words raking across his raw heart like sandpaper. "It's no more than I deserve."

Her quiet whisper hit him like a jolt.

"What's his name?"

His agony-filled eyes came up to meet hers, just as she uncovered her face. Her teary gaze locked on him, intensely waiting for the answer to her question. He didn't want that godforsaken name anywhere near her. But he would deny her nothing.

"Albert." God, how he hated the sound of it on his tongue — almost as much as he loathed the idea of her hearing it. He couldn't stop the instinctual way his teeth bared before he repeated it. He barely repressed the snarl. "Albert Rowe."

"Albert," she repeated, and hearing it cross her lips was even worse. She nodded slowly. "That makes it easier, I think. Knowing what to call him."

 _Something aside from Edward_. She didn't say it. She didn't have to.

"What does he really look like?" she pressed, and saw his horrified hesitation. "Please. I need to know."

He'd rather take an extended jolt from Jane than have that face in Bella's mind. But he reached in his pocket anyway, and handed over the folded-up paper Alice had given him earlier. The sketch she'd drawn. He still hadn't opened it himself, having seen it clearly in Alice's mind. And he didn't look at Bella as she did, either.

He was already expecting it when she gasped in recognition. "Edward!"

"I know," he cut her off, his throat tight, his eyes still averted. He couldn't bear to look. Bella's silent mind was a blessing, at the moment. "Alice told me. She saw you in a vision a few months ago, trying to find our meadow, talking to him there. I only learned of that today, too."

She was still studying the sketch, and he _hated_ it. His fingers itched to snatch it out of her hand, light a fire in that fireplace and _burn_ it.

Finally, he felt compelled to break the silence. He couldn't just sit there and watch her _look_ at it.

"I'm glad the wolves were there to save you that day, Bella. And I'm more sorry than I can say that I _wasn't._ But no matter how you may feel about me now, I need you to promise me you won't do something like that again, that you won't go off alone again until we can find him. You're not safe alone. Especially not _there_ , in our meadow."

He decided to stop being a coward, look her in the eye. "And I need you to know that I am more sorry for all of this than I could ever tell you." He barely got through that.

Her hand reaching out and covering his made his heart flip over in his chest.

"It's not your fault, you know," she said simply.

He grimaced, in agony. "How can you say that?"

Her voice strengthened. "Because you can't have it both ways. If you insist that nothing involving him is my fault, not even my own actions...then it can't be your fault, either. His actions are only his, either way. He's the one who hurt people. Not you."

Edward's heart lurched in his chest at that, but he stubbornly shook his head. "It's not that simple. All those women, Bella. I can't imagine how many he's killed in the last 80 years. Their blood is all on my hands, and the worst part is that I can scarcely bring myself to care. Because all I can think of is _you_ — of stopping him from touching you again; of punishing him for hurting you."

"But you _do_ care about them," she rebutted. "I can see it. Right here."

The feeling of her soft hand on his temple, her fingers brushing close to his abruptly closed eyelids, was very nearly his undoing. His free hand moved to grip the stone fireplace under him, squeezing so hard that pieces of the rock chipped off under his fingers, grinding into a fine powder. His eyes slowly opened, his face leaning into her touch.

"I won't let him get near you again," he grated. "I swear to you, Bella. No matter what I have to do, I'll fix my mistake. I'll put an end to him. I'll make you safe."

"I know," she whispered, and winced slightly as she turned her body to face him on the stone hearth.

And that was the point where he couldn't take it anymore. The protective rush that had swelled up in him when she touched him suddenly manifested itself in a need to take action.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" he asked abruptly, roughly. "Tell me the truth."

She gasped, just a little, negating her next words entirely. "What do you mean?" She pulled her hand back from his face.

His eyes bored into her. This was not the time or the way he'd intended to broach this topic, but he couldn't hold it back any longer. Especially considering his suspicions regarding what she felt so guilty about.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're in pain. You've refused to see a doctor. It doesn't matter to me how it happened Bella — I swear to you, it doesn't. You don't even have to tell me. But you have to let Carlisle bring in the doctor he told you about."

Her heartbeat was so fast, it seemed to confirm his worst fears, as did her flushing face. "It's not necessary. I'm fine."

He grit his teeth, tried not to raise his voice — and mostly succeeded. "You're _not_ fine. And I can't stand the thought of you suffering because you're trying to protect _me_ from something. _Please_ don't do that to me. I can't bear it. It's _my_ job to protect _you,_ not the other way around."

His impassioned plea seemed to have startled her, but when she gave in, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"Okay," she agreed finally, reluctantly, not quite meeting his eyes. "Okay. But only if I can know for sure Charlie won't find out anything. I'm not answering any questions. And you can't be there, either. I don't want you to...listen."

Watch. She meant _watch,_ through his own eyes or anyone else's. That was what she meant and they both knew it.

"You have my word," he murmured quietly. It felt like he couldn't even breathe. She _was_ in pain. She was injured, internally, and thanks to his own insecurities and misinterpretations, he had let her suffer for days without manning up and forcing this discussion. He had known all along, deep down, he was the only one she would listen to. And he had done nothing, paralyzed with fear and guilt.

"And you don't have to worry about Charlie," he managed to keep it together enough to assure her. "My father was telling you the truth. You're 18 now. You're an adult in the eyes of the law. No doctor can call your parent without your permission. If you'll let me, Bella, I'll have Carlisle arrange it for first thing tomorrow morning."

And Carlisle would be arranging that there would be neither a rape kit nor an accompanying police report, either, although Edward didn't want to worry her by bringing that up if she hadn't already thought of it herself. With there being no one that the justice system could prosecute, there was simply no reason to put her through that. Edward would be meting out justice himself, personally. And then some.

"Okay," Bella accepted, not meeting his eyes. She couldn't quite repress the small shiver that ran through her. "Um...thank you."

She didn't really sound like she meant that last part, and there was no good reply to it, either. _You're welcome_ would imply he had done something to be thanked for, when all he had really done was finally take steps to mitigate the damage he'd allowed to be done to her.

He couldn't quite look at her either. "Thank you for agreeing to go," was the reply he came up with.

And with that conversation, every ounce of awkwardness from the moment she walked into the cottage earlier was back. He could feel it in the air, tense and thick. It was too quiet, too silent, both of them sitting lost in their own tense thoughts, like they were separated by miles rather than feet and inches.

He wanted to hear the rest of her story, desperately. He knew better than to ask. She was exhausted, emotionally wrung out. And truthfully, so was he. He couldn't take any more figurative kicks to the gut that night.

"It's late," he finally murmured, some attempt at being a gentleman, despite how very much he didn't want her to leave. "You need rest. We should get you back."

She stiffened. "Are you going to stay here?"

His eyes swept across the empty living room. "No. Not if, by some miracle, you still want me with you after what I told you tonight. I'll be wherever you are." He reached for her hand tentatively, his fingers lacing through hers after a moment, when he realized she was still okay with the contact. "Nothing ever changed for me, Bella. It still hasn't. I was only working on this house with the hope that you'd one day be here with me. As long as I'm with you somewhere, this place doesn't matter. Nothing else does."

Bella followed the earlier path of his eyes, looking around the living room. He had no idea she was about to completely blow him away when she tentatively looked back at him.

"I could work on it with you," she offered shyly. "If you'd like some help?"

The relieved exhalation that shot out of his chest was accompanied by the exhilarating feeling of having been handed a second chance. Bella knew the worst, and she still wanted to be near him. She wanted to spend time with him.

She wanted to _work on their house with him._

Another surge of protectiveness hit him with dizzying force. He might not be worthy of her. But he was going to start working toward _becoming_ worthy, right that very moment.

"Yes," he answered, not even trying to fight the hope that welled up in him, the smile that threatened to take over his face. " _God, yes._ I can't imagine anything I would like more."

There was cautious hope in her eyes too. "When? Can we start right now?"

He sighed. She was dead on her feet. "Tomorrow morning," he promised, hoping the spell wouldn't be broken by then. "After you see a doctor." He let go of her hand and stood up. She did the same, standing close beside him. "But for now, we need to get you back up to the main house before Jacob wakes up."

There was an unwelcome thought. _Jacob_. He'd rather _their house_ not smell like wet dog if the mutt came charging in to find her. He was already never going to get the stench out of his room.

He had simply assumed he would carry her, and he held out his hand invitingly, intending to carefully place her on his back. But Bella was fidgeting awkwardly, all of a sudden, looking uncomfortable. She might not want to ride on his back, he realized, especially if she was in pain. He'd seen in Rosalie's memory that she had carried her bridal style. There was likely a reason for that, one that Rosalie would have surely understood. But Bella might not be comfortable with that kind of closeness yet, either, coming from him.

Things were better, after their talk. They weren't perfect. Not by a long shot. He lowered his hand.

"Do you want me to call Rosalie to come and get you?" he asked gently. "Or Esme. Alice just got back, too. It's not a problem. Any of them would be happy to do it."

"Could we walk?" she asked instead, and he briefly hesitated. He wanted to move her from point A to point B as rapidly as possible, to minimize the chance of anyone sneaking up on them in the woods, no matter how unlikely that might be with his abilities.

But what he wanted even more was to give her anything she asked of him.

"Of course. I'll text the others, let them know we're coming," he told her, already doing just that. They would understand what he meant, even if Bella didn't.

Guard the path, from out of sight. Make sure he got her home safely. Protect Bella at all costs.

And when that was arranged and he could hear that his family were near instantly in place, he offered her his arm as they started down the trail. And she only hesitated for the briefest of seconds before she took it, inching ever closer to his side as they walked.

* * *

Bella, as Edward might have expected, was not particularly skilled at home renovations. Unsurprising, considering her level of physical coordination. If there was a stray tool within 50 feet, she could manage to trip over it. If there was an unattended paint tray, her feet were drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

He could have done it a million times faster by himself.

And he couldn't have cared less. She was _there_ , with him, and more importantly, she _wanted_ to be. She could tear the damn place down board by board and expect him to reassemble it, and he still wouldn't have complained.

He did make a mental note to hide the ladders, however. The thought of accident-prone Bella on one of those was terrifying. She had been through enough, for one day.

Carlisle had made good on his offers of discreet medical care. He had many friends at the hospital — good ones. One of them, a very kind, older female gynecologist, had done a house call on Bella the very next morning.

True to his word, Edward stayed out of the doctor's head. He even left the house and went out of earshot, although he drew the line at going out of his mental range, just in case any danger presented itself. He'd simply fixed his focus on Carlisle's thoughts, instead, who was in his own study, safely out of the room.

Carlisle had heard Bella's and the doctor's conversation, of course. It wasn't as though there was any way to avoid it, as Carlisle also drew the line at compromising Bella's safety by leaving the house unprotected, especially without Edward there. He, along with Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, stayed in the house.

That meant Edward also knew what had been said in the room. Bella hadn't uttered a word about how it happened, but they all now knew that she had a small amount of vaginal tearing — nothing that would even require stitches, thankfully. Some ointment and an oral antibiotic, just in case, and she would heal. No permanent damage done, at least physically.

Overall, not as bad as it could have easily been. He'd already known she'd been digitally penetrated — Jacob had seen enough to know that. And Edward also knew enough of Albert to know he would have wanted to leave her with a reminder, something to keep her mind on him until he went after her again. It was almost certainly intentional, and that was sickening. But Bella's relatively minor injuries implied the fingering had been the worst of it, and for that he was eminently grateful.

Still, more than one tree met its violent end at his hands when the word "tearing" came out of the doctor's mouth and filtered through Carlisle's thoughts.

He had truly expected Bella to have changed her mind about working on their house with him, in the light of day, and after having time to reflect on the fact that he truly was responsible for what happened. Especially after her visit with the doctor.

But when he returned to the house, very tentatively walking in the door, he quickly found her in the kitchen. She was finishing up her breakfast and wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of her shorts, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wanting to know if they could get started. She seemed almost _desperate_ for them to leave and get started — and again insisted on walking to the cottage.

He kept up a steady, nervous stream of chatter on the walk, about what things they might work on that day. Even if she had wanted to volunteer any information, which seemed unlikely, she wouldn't have got a word in edgewise. He didn't _want_ to know any more, at the moment. His control only extended so far. But she seemed just as content to listen to him talk.

There was an ungodly amount of small holes in the walls that needed repairing before they could even paint all the rooms, so he first showed her how to repair those. Had he ever imagined himself buying and fixing up a house with Bella, teaching her what to do, he'd have imagined it with his arms wrapped around her, spending at least as much time touching as teaching.

He didn't do that, of course. He stood at a respectful distance to her side, careful not to move too fast or even make any sudden motions toward her.

But that adorable look of concentration on her face when she started spackling was going to be the damn death of him.

This was exactly what they needed, he realized at some point. He and Bella had been apart for so long, that while not quite strangers, there was still a certain distance, despite their still-strong mate bond. But when they were working on their house — as he secretly thought of it — the conversation flowed freely, even cheerfully. Not about anything important, because they both seemed to be putting any more of that off until they'd recovered from the last time.

But there, in that cottage with plenty to do and talk about, they could just _be_ there, together. And for now, that was enough.

They quickly set up a daily routine, one that his family was only all too happy to support: breakfast for Bella, work on the cottage until Esme dropped off lunch, stay until dinner, then go back to the main house and work on Bella's schoolwork while she ate. Alice picked up her assignments for her every day. Then Bella would shower and go to bed. By unspoken agreement, neither of them brought up what had happened anymore.

If not for the nighttime, which still saw Bella's rest interrupted by horrific nightmares every time she closed her eyes — making Edward feel almost like he went back to square one on a nightly basis — things would have been perfect.

For one thing, Carlisle had managed to free them of Jacob the very next morning after Bella first came to Edward in the cottage, before the doctor even arrived. All it had taken was a diplomatic phone call to Sam Uley, suggesting that Jacob's talents might be put to better use defending Quileute lands, as the Cullens were perfectly competent to defend one human, very non-Quileute girl on their own property.

Sam had been only too happy to order Jacob home.

Happy was certainly not the word to describe how Jacob felt, but he had no choice but to obey his alpha. So he went, promising — or threatening — to be back at every opportunity to be sure they hadn't harmed Bella.

He thought Edward was responsible for getting him booted, if the foul volley of absolutely obscene profanity his mind spewed in Edward's direction as he was leaving was any indication.

Edward may have been innocent on that count, but he approved heartily, with a smirk on his face — all while Jacob mentally insulted everything from his personal scent to his parental heritage. That raised his eyebrow. From what he'd already picked up from Jacob's mind about pack family drama, the dog should be more concerned about his and his packmates' legitimacy than Edward's. The terms 'brothers' and 'mutts' were both more accurate than he'd have guessed.

Bella was standing right beside him on the porch when Jacob phased and took off into the woods, or Edward might have made those observations out loud. In ungentlemanly language.

It became even more amusing when Jacob discovered that it was actually Carlisle responsible for having him evicted, not Edward, just as soon as he was in wolf form and wolf telepathy kicked in.

Carlisle hadn't discussed that decision with Edward beforehand, which usually would have irritated him where Bella was concerned. But honestly, Edward wouldn't have cared if the devil himself was behind getting rid of Jacob. Jacob wasn't there to keep putting his "concerned" hands on Bella and offer her back rubs every time she whimpered, and that was a definite improvement.

Jacob's absence, combined with his own improved relationship with Bella, also meant that Edward had "moved back" into his own room. Not that he slept there, of course, because he didn't sleep. But he had managed to coax Bella into taking the futon — after instructing Alice to _thoroughly_ replace the bedclothes and fumigate it the first day they spent at the cottage. In turn, he was happy to sprawl out on his couch that was pleasantly saturated with her scent, keeping an eye on her when she slept. Just having his room be "his" again, while also having Bella in it and under his care, did wonders for his confidence.

Yes, she had a certain number of nightmares. Every night, in fact. Yes, those nightmares still gutted him when _"Edward, stop"_ came out of her mouth at least as frequently as _"Edward, help."_ But by the third night, after they'd spent three days working together in the little cottage, when he knelt beside the futon and talked softly to her until she awakened, she didn't startle anymore when she awoke and saw his face. He still didn't dare touch her afterward, but things were slowly becoming less tense.

Every morning, Esme and Alice would appear in his doorway with a tray packed with more breakfast foods than Bella could eat in a week, and she would blush and insist it wasn't necessary. Esme, who secretly loved having a child she could actually take care of in some way, stayed and pretty much beamed the entire time Bella ate as much as she could.

 _She's so thin, Edward,_ his mother thought almost every morning, with some variations.

_I don't think the poor child has eaten a full meal ever since you left._

_She's going to be okay now that you're back. You'll take care of her. We all will._

Bella's face looked a little panicked, every morning, about all of that food, but Edward was in total agreement with Esme. Whether it made Bella panic or not, a home-cooked feast was one crisis he wasn't going to either save her from or die trying.

After breakfast, he would step out to let Bella change out of her pajamas. That was the worst part of his day. Having her out of his sight for even those few moments made him unbelievably anxious.

But then she would eagerly appear in the kitchen, ready for the two of them to get back to work. That was one of his _favorite_ parts of the day. Because without even asking, she had taken to just going through the drawers in his bedroom like she owned the place, finding t-shirts of his to wear over her shorts, since Alice had only packed Bella's nicer clothes, nothing she could work in.

He really didn't care that his t-shirt population was quickly dwindling, the paint-splatter casualties increasing daily because Bella was a terrifying menace with a paintbrush. He just enjoyed seeing her appear in his clothes like it was the most natural thing on earth, looking so eager to get back to work on what she still referred to as " _his house_ ".

If she noticed that even the slightest opinion she offered about paint colors, fixtures, lighting, or any other aspect of "his house" was met with all too eager agreement and him quickly ordering whatever was needed to implement it — or even him immediately painting back over a color she didn't seem to particularly care for — she didn't bring it up. And if she wasn't bringing it up, he wasn't about to point it out, either.

But he had taken to bringing his laptop with him to the cottage for just that purpose, setting Bella up with it to pick out whatever she thought "he" needed when there wasn't anything else she could physically work on without creating havoc or risking breaking her neck. He was going to need furniture and decorations, after all, and he pled complete incompetence and helplessness for that daunting task.

As it turned out, Bella didn't object to either shopping or spending his money when it was to help _him._ He had nearly forgotten the all-important fact that with Bella, loopholes were everything.

Alice, unlike Bella, picked up on his Bella-bias quickly. And when she stopped by to drop off some more supplies, including a requested new paint color, she pointed that out to him at length — mostly because it was her color choice that Bella had vetoed for the master bedroom, opting instead for what Alice considered a "drab, outdated color." Just so long as she considered it drab and outdated _quietly_ , as in quietly enough that Bella couldn't hear it, he was content to let his sister vent.

It wasn't Alice's bedroom he hoped that room would one day be, after all. It was Bella's. He finally had to very quietly point out that if Alice wanted to play interior decorator, she could get Jasper to build _her_ a little cottage in the woods. In Bella's house, what Bella wanted took precedence — whether Bella had figured out that it was her house yet or not.

Alice stuck her tongue out at him without any real malice. Then she sent him a retaliatory mental image of him inexplicably rumpled and smeared all over in that same 'drab' paint color, something she found very amusing. He'd have loved to see the rest of the vision that had prompted _that_ , because unlike Bella, he hadn't spilled a drop on _his_ clothes yet and was at a loss for how he would apparently be so clumsy in the near future as to end up so smeared in paint. But his sister mentally clammed up, with a smug look on her face.

That was one thing about the future — Alice couldn't hide it from him forever. He'd find out eventually. Probably when he ended up a lovely and decidedly not-drab shade of pale gray.

But he was looking forward to it, he was pretty sure.

Bella may have been oblivious to the fact that he had very covertly put her 100% in charge of pretty much everything, but she did notice one thing.

It happened around lunch on the fifth day, the day after she finally ran out of tiny holes in the walls to slowly fix — the task she had clearly enjoyed most and had expressed disappointment when it was complete. When she finally looked up from Edward's laptop and 'helping' him pick flooring that would match the paint colors 'he' had picked out, as she had been doing all morning, she definitely noticed that some holes she had "missed" repairing had appeared overnight.

Well, she noticed them when he finally gave up and pointed them out, that is, and asked if she would like to work on them...

He was watching her closely, so he saw it when she bit her lip and practically melted, her eyes looking a little misty. He knew he was busted but was still holding onto hope that she might let him get away with it. _Please just don't cry,_ he silently begged her. _I didn't mean to make you cry._

And almost like she had heard him, she changed course, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turned on him. "Edward Cullen...did you _poke holes_ in the wall of your house?"

Yes. No. Definitely yes. Maybe. It depends.

Technically, he'd poked holes in the wall of _their_ house. Bella might not appreciate his semantics.

"Poke holes in the wall?" he tried instead. He had on his best innocent look, the one that actually worked on Esme sometimes, when he and one of his brothers had broken something while wrestling in the house, and he thought _they_ should take the fall for it, rather than him, just because he was pretty sure he was Esme's favorite child and he could get away with it. But Bella wasn't buying his act in the slightest.

 _"Why_ did you poke holes in the walls?"

Mostly, it was because he didn't want this to end — Bella, there with him, completely relaxed and enjoying herself. He could almost forget sometimes about what had happened to her and the role he played in it. The time they spent together felt a little bit like falling in love all over again, although he'd never stopped adoring her. But maybe she was falling back in love with him. And that was an idea he found that he liked very much.

He knew it couldn't last forever. He had Alice keeping track of the repair work Charlie Swan had fast-tracked on the Swan home. He knew he had maybe two more weeks, possibly less, before Charlie would want his daughter home. And then this perfect arrangement would come to an end, the one that let them temporarily forget about the very real problems they were eventually going to have to face.

Problems like how he was going to adequately protect her at school, both physically and emotionally. That was on hold, temporarily, thanks to Carlisle's foresight in artfully writing and then faxing a doctor's excuse for her for two whole weeks, leaving the school with no reason to contact Charlie. (Bella, apparently, had mono — or as the immature children at school referred to it, 'kissing disease'. If Bella's long list of male admirers drew any conclusions from the fact that he reappeared in school on the same day Bella returned from suffering such an affliction...then yeah, he was fine with that.)

There were more serious problems too.

Problems like Albert. Victoria.

Problems like finding out the rest of what happened to her, which Bella didn't seem eager to discuss again any time soon and he was afraid to risk bursting their blissful bubble by bringing up.

Problems like the fact that Bella clearly expected to continue her friendship with Jacob Black once she went home, and after giving it careful consideration, he had exactly zero intention of allowing it.

Little stuff like that.

All of that was heavier than he wanted to go, not in their idyllic little cottage paradise. Not yet. For the time being, he just wanted to drag out their time fixing up what he hoped would one day be _their home_ , for as long as he could manage to drag it out.

So instead of admitting that yes, those new holes in the walls were 100% his doing, he took a different path.

Surreptitiously, he dipped his fingers into the roller tray of paint he had resting on the ladder next to him, got a good coating of paint on three of his fingertips, and then flicked it at her.

It splattered right onto her shirt — _his_ shirt, actually. One of the few he had left that hadn't already fallen victim to Bella's 'skills' at painting.

Bella gasped, her eyes going wide. "What are you doing?"

He did it again. "Just saving you the trouble," he teased, deadpan. "You'd have ruined it within the hour anyway."

Wide eyes went away, narrowing even farther this time. "You're trying to change the subject!" she accused.

Yep. He was planning on succeeding, too.

He flicked a little more paint in her direction, and her expression changed, a challenge gleaming in her eyes as they roved the room, looking for a 'weapon' she could use to get her revenge.

This was war now, apparently, and he was thrilled. So _that_ was how he was going to end up covered in paint — by pretending like he couldn't easily get out of the way fast enough to keep her from catching him and doing her worst.

She dashed over and grabbed a paint brush from the tray on the floor behind her, impressively managing not to knock the whole tray over on the floor. He'd have to remedy that. Any gigantic mess they made just meant more hours spent in that cottage together, cleaning it up and fixing the damage. He'd just spent half the morning trying to convince her to order him some new flooring for the living room anyway, which she'd only resisted because she thought maybe they could save the old and save him some money.

She _wanted_ the new floor, though. He'd seen how longingly she looked at the deep cherry hardwood she'd found online, how she kept going back to it, her face falling at the price. As though he'd have cared either way. But replacing the flooring himself, especially with Bella's questionable help, would take them a lot longer than repairing the old. So he came down solidly in favor of the new.

If he played his cards right, maybe he could get her to splatter some paint on the walls, too, so they'd have to repaint those as well...

She stalked toward him, with the brush held out in front of her. It was gratifying to see a few heavy drips of pale gray already dotting the floor before she even got close, which she immediately stepped in and unknowingly ground into the grain. That settled that. Bella would get her new floor, and he would get to spend time with her putting it in. Win-win. If she didn't give in and order it for him, he'd do it himself as she slept that night.

He picked up his paint tray off the ladder and held it protectively under his arm, taking it with him as he backed away. He couldn't have kept the grin off his face at that point if he tried. Just for good measure, he dipped his fingers back in and flicked paint toward her again.

She yelped, jumping back and away, and sure enough, some paint flew off her brush and hit the wall. Two points Edward, per his admittedly unique scoring algorithm.

He didn't really resist very hard when she lunged after him, stabbing ridiculously at him with the brush like it was a fencing foil. He was laughing too hard. After her first victory of smearing him in gray, Bella was laughing too, but her aggression level remained unchecked despite her breathless giggles — she wasn't stopping until he had it all over him.

Bella had a competitive streak in her, he noted. When he changed her one day, he might be in very real trouble.

He'd risk it.

He let her continue until he had decidedly more gray on him than he'd yet managed to get on her, because he didn't want to push his luck.

Then he grabbed the handle of the paintbrush and started pushing it back in her direction, with her still holding onto it. She tried turning her back on him, which left him with one arm around her — because he wasn't letting go of that brush — and before he knew it, his paint tray was safely on the ground and they were "struggling" over possession of the brush, with both of his arms around her in a loose embrace, her back up against his chest, both of them giggling.

He didn't yank the brush out of her hand, no matter how ridiculously easy it would have been. But he did make sure she ended up with paint smeared on her chin and the tip of her nose. He had his pride, after all.

He sensed the overall _delight_ in Esme's thoughts before he truly registered her presence, realized that she was standing in the doorway watching them, grinning and glowing with pure motherly satisfaction.

Delight actually didn't cover it. Esme was so happy she looked like she might actually burst.

Out of curiosity, he looked at the scene through Esme's eyes and was amazed by what he saw. The two of them looked _happy_ , carefree and completely in love, giggling like teenagers. Which, in the most strictly technical sense, he supposed was what they both were, at least in body.

It actually threw him enough that he let go.

It was over anyway as soon as Bella saw Esme — or more likely, smelled the gourmet cheeseburger and fries Esme was holding on a covered platter for her. She jumped away guiltily, at first, traitorously shoving the paintbrush into Edward's hand and leaving it with him, like she had been caught doing something wrong. She was worse than Emmett.

As though Esme would have objected even had she walked in on Bella pinning him down with his face in the paint tray. He had to work not to roll his eyes. Esme would have probably helped her hold him down. He had been wrong earlier: he wasn't the favorite child anymore. Bella was.

Bella's embarrassment quickly fled and her eyes lit up when the cover came off that tray and she saw lunch.

Ruthless revenge and property destruction made her hungry, apparently. One more thing for Esme to glow about, because she was definitely determined to get some meat on Bella's bones. He watched with almost as much satisfaction as Esme when Bella plopped down on the fireplace — without the slightest sign of pain, five days past seeing the doctor — and tucked into that burger, her chin and nose still smeared with gray paint.

In fact, he enjoyed it so much that he didn't even register until she was polishing off the last few bites that he had just had his arms around Bella, without thinking twice about it, and she hadn't once flinched away or been frightened of him.

Something welled up in his heart. He wasn't completely familiar with it anymore, but it felt an awful lot like happiness.

* * *

That same night, in his room, after a nightmare that was devastatingly heavy on the ' _Edward, no'_ , his first thought was that he was about to pay for that clear lapse of judgment on his part. What had made him think he could so carelessly touch her, he castigated himself.

But when Bella's desperate, panicked eyes finally opened and landed on him, registering his presence kneeling by her bed, she stared at him for a split second before something happened that he didn't see coming.

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck, still shaking and shuddering.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	12. Volatility

Chapter 12

When Edward very suddenly and unexpectedly found his arms full of a warm, soft, trembling Bella, clinging to him as tightly as she could after she slammed directly into his chest, it was all he could do not to crush her.

The relief was almost more than he could bear.

His arms instantly closed around her, as tightly as he dared.

His breathing came hard, in short bursts, his eyes squeezing shut. He buried his nose in her hair and held on as hard as he deemed safe.

The purring hum in his chest — not exactly a growl — was constant, loud enough it had to be audible even to human ears. And he couldn't have stopped it any more than he could have forced himself to pry his arms loose from around her.

The feeling of her there, close against him, was everything and still not enough. His entire world narrowed down to the feel of having his mate right there with him, his arms locked around her, shielding her. It was the first moment he'd felt truly secure that she was still _his_ — that she wasn't going to suddenly disappear, run from him, turn him away...or find her comfort in the arms of another, namely an arrogant wolf.

He'd _needed_ this. He'd desperately needed her in his embrace since the moment his plane touched down, needed to feel her there in his arms and know she was safe. It was downright _primal_ how desperately he needed it.

There had been times he thought it would never happen. And those times had been some of the low points of his existence.

For it to finally come when he was least expecting it, in the dark stillness of night, after devastatingly listening to her beg him to _stop_ in her dreams... it was almost too much. His senses were overwhelmed.

Bella's face was buried between his neck and shoulder, and he intimately felt every breath she took, every sob, inhaled and exhaled against his flesh. He was hyperaware of each one of her fingernails, trying to burrow into his stone-like shoulders, gripping him as tightly as she could without hurting herself. She could never grip him tightly enough to satisfy _him._

He had her clutched against him, chest to chest. After far too many days of only being able to listen from a distance, he could now finally _feel_ every heartbeat, the way her chest expanded and retracted with each breath. Those particular sensations held a meaning of vital importance: she was _alive._ She was alive and he had her.

He distinctly felt each of her individual tears as they dampened his throat, dripping down onto his shirt. He felt the way her body trembled against him, overwhelming him with the urge to tighten his hold until it stopped. Only sheer force of will kept him aware enough to keep from trying. He wanted to lose himself in her, give himself over to his senses, but he had to keep it in check. She was still human — his mate, but not his physical equal. His comfort had to be tender, not fierce, as his instincts screamed.

Equally vivid to his heightened senses was the smell of a wave of residual fear that wracked her from the nightmare, mingled with both her own pleasant freesia scent and the mouthwatering smell of her blood.

The fear was the scent that held his attention, at the moment.

The smell of his mate's fear affected him viscerally, instinctively — his hold tightened infinitesimally more, a low growl mingling with the purr in his chest. Feral. A warning to anything close enough to hear it. His strength he could control, but some drives could not be put in check — they were too ingrained.

It had to mean something about their bond, something profound and primal, that that sound seemed to comfort his mate, rather than frighten her. She burrowed closer, her trembling ebbing slightly, so he did it again. Louder. _Intentionally._

"Edward..." she sobbed his name into his neck, her fingers clawing at him as she tried to get closer. Just that one word sent shivers through him. After everything she had told him about what Albert had done to her, the way he'd tortured her mind as well as body, to hear Bella say his name this way was a gift he did not take for granted.

"I've got you," he rasped, and barely recognized the sound of his own voice. It was deep, rough, ravaged with emotion. One hand went to the back of her head, cupping it securely as he held her against him. "I've got you, and I'm never letting you go again. Not ever."

She nodded into his shoulder, as close as she could possibly get. He wanted her even closer. There was simply no way to get her close enough to satisfy the ache in him, the desperate _need_ for his mate — for her warmth, her smell, her softness, her _presence._ A need that had gone unfulfilled for far too long.

And yet there was nothing sexual about it, at least not for the moment, not even from the monster in him — the side of his nature that unendingly growled for her flesh as much as her blood. She was mate to them both: the man and the vampire. Her needs were of top priority to them both, and right now, they both understood this was all she needed.

It may have been the man that held her; but it was the monster that both growled in her defense and purred in contentment at having her close. She was the one who drove it to a frenzy; she was also the only one who could tame it.

He hadn't pondered that before — that his monster could love unselfishly; that it was that side of him he so wished to deny that actually allowed him to love her so fiercely.

And it was his monster's capacity for violence that would stop at nothing — including coldblooded, murderous vengeance — to keep her safe.

_Safe_. The word sent pleasant tingles through both parts of his nature. Bella _was_ finally safe. He had her. Nothing could touch her. It would have to get through him first, and that wasn't happening.

That tight ball of tension he'd carried in his chest since the beginning of the entire ordeal wasn't something he'd even been aware of, until it released instantly with that awareness that his mate was safe. Muscles he hadn't been aware had been tightly coiled for months relaxed, though his arms still held her tightly.

Still she cried. She cried like she wasn't ever going to stop.

He made his way up onto the futon from where he knelt on the floor, and he quickly sat to pull her into his lap, never fully letting go of her for a millisecond. He rocked her, and he whispered how much he loved her and that she was safe — that he was _never_ going to let anything happen to her again — that he would _never_ leave her again, no matter what.

All the things he'd so needed to say since he came home.

And she must have needed to hear them. Because Bella only pressed closer and clung to him more tightly, crying so hard her whole body shook as she finally let it all out in his arms.

As she slowly began to calm, he cupped her face in his hands and brought it to his, kissing the top of her head, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. He whispered "I love you" with his forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling, both of their eyes closed as she held onto him and whispered it right back.

He didn't kiss her trembling lips. He wanted to, desperately. But he didn't. Not that night. He just had the feeling it might not be a good idea to try — not there, in her bed, after that kind of nightmare.

And eventually, she dipped her head back down to rest her cheek on his shoulder.

* * *

"Edward?"

The sound of her voice surprised him. She'd been sitting in his lap on the futon for quite some time, just resting peacefully in his arms once she had quieted, her head on his shoulder. Her fingers were curled into his t-shirt, right over his still heart. She'd made no move to leave him, and he certainly wasn't planning to suggest it. He'd have been content for her to stay there forever, letting him rub her back softly, despite the fact that he knew she needed to get some sleep.

He dreaded the moment she would pull away. He wasn't entirely convinced he would be able to let her go.

"Hm?" he half hummed, half purred, nuzzling his nose into her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Would you do something for me?" she asked, so tentatively that it was like a vise around his heart.

Was she serious? There was quite literally nothing he _wouldn't_ do for her, at that point. Not one condition on that.

"Anything," he murmured into her hair. "Name it, love."

The endearment slipped out before he thought better of it, and he felt the way she briefly stiffened in his arms. He nearly cursed. She had told him Albert called her that too, and he hadn't said it since. How could he have forgotten at the worst possible moment?

She shifted in his lap but didn't lift her head from his shoulder. "I need your help with something. It's...it's actually what I came to talk to you about, that first night at your cottage, before I got...sidetracked."

His hold tightened slightly. That was the first time either of them had acknowledged their emotional discussion since the night it had happened, and he wasn't sure he was ready to go there again yet.

So he focused on the semantics of her statement, instead. Still _your_ cottage, not _ours_. He hated that more every time she said it.

And she still sounded nervous about asking him for something — too unsure of him.

"Anything you want," he assured her again, meaning every word. "Tell me and it's done."

She exhaled a shaky breath. "Lacey Matthews. I keep thinking about her. I saw her pictures there in the woods, and I...I see her face sometimes, when I close my eyes."

Better her face than Albert's, Edward felt. Or his own, in the role of attacker. But he didn't voice that opinion. Nor did he ask what she meant about pictures in the woods. That was part of Bella's story he hadn't heard yet.

"How can I help?" he asked carefully, pressing yet another kiss to the top of her head. He didn't seem able to stop.

A residual shudder wracked her frame. "It's just...she's out there, somewhere. Her body, I mean. She must have family or friends looking for her, at least somebody. Do you think...do you think you could...you know...find her? So her family can bury her?"

He hadn't expected that, but he should have. Bella's warm, caring heart was a large part of the reason he loved her, and it wasn't so hard to believe that she would have identified with the woman in whose cabin she was held.

Logistically, however, there were problems with that, not the least of which was leaving Bella without his protection while he looked for a corpse — a corpse he would also have difficulty not identifying with Bella.

It could so very easily have been her. It could have been _her_ body he had to look for, her life that had been brutally cut short. And that wasn't something he could dwell on, not without coming dangerously close to losing his tenuous grasp on his rage at Albert, Victoria, and the whole situation.

But that didn't matter. This was the first thing Bella had really asked of him since he returned — the first tangible thing he could actually _do_ for her.

And he'd be damned if he'd let her down.

"I'll be glad to, sweetheart." He'd barely remembered not to call her _love,_ yet again, and it pissed him off that Albert had taken that from him. "The new flooring is being delivered tomorrow morning, but I'll leave right afterward, if you'll agree to come back here and stay in the house with my family. I don't want you down at the cottage without me. That's my only condition: I won't leave you unless I know you're protected."

"I promise," she agreed quickly. "But Edward, when you find her..."

He rubbed her back, already dreading the moment he discovered the girl who'd died in Bella's place. At the same time, he was touched that Bella had such confidence in him.

"Yes?"

"If there's a funeral, I — I want to go. I know I can't go alone right now, but...will you take me?"

Jesus. _No._ He felt sick just thinking about it.

Bella, at a funeral that, again, could so easily have been her own, both of them trying not to draw correlations between her and the woman in the casket.

Bella, out of the controlled environment of the Cullen home, when Albert could so easily appear as _anyone._ With Albert's ability to mask his scent, even Edward's family could be fooled. Only he, with his mind-reading capabilities, could know the difference with certainty.

Making him Bella's only _real_ protection.

A chilling thought occurred to him. All his enemies would have to do is take _him_ out, incapacitate him in some way, and their path to Bella would be an easy one. And here he was considering going out into the woods alone.

But she _asked_ him for this. She had come to him to ask for help, a visible show of _trust._ So there was less than zero probability he would actually tell her no. And he'd be going alone. Pulling any of his family away from protecting her to protect _him_ was out of the question too.

"If that's what you need, then yes. I'll find her. I'll make sure her family gets her back, and I'll take you to the funeral, if there is one."

"Thank you," she whispered, and he drew a deep breath of contentment when her fingers released the front of his t-shirt and her arms wrapped fully around his waist in gratitude.

He'd scare her with his intensity if he started trying to explain just how willing he was to do absolutely anything she asked, so he just pressed his lips against her head again, breathing her in deep.

But her heartrate picked up nervously and she fidgeted in his lap anyway, and he sighed. He'd known it was too good to last. He braced himself for her extricating herself from his embrace, willing his arms to agree to relinquish their long-awaited hold on her.

"Will you do something else for me?" she asked instead, surprising him both that she stayed put and how unsure her tone was. If anything, she sounded even more timid this time. Maybe he _should_ have gone into detail about just exactly how far he would go to make her happy.

"Do you honestly think there's the slightest chance I might tell you _no?_ " he teased gently, his tone intentionally light, but with the intent of getting his point across. He squeezed her a little closer. "You never have to ask, Bella. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do everything in my power to make it happen."

Her nervousness was starting to make _him_ nervous. Her heart was fluttering like hummingbird wings.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" she asked, so quietly that if he was human, he might not have even heard it.

He'd already been staying in the room with her anyway, since the night Jacob left, watching over her from the sofa while she slept on the futon. So she could only mean...

"Of course," he answered quickly, overwhelmed by the emotion that shot through him. She wanted him to hold her. She felt safe enough with him to allow him back into her bed, to trustingly go to sleep in his arms.

Maybe she even felt _safer_ with him there.

And that was how it came to be that for the first time in more than seven months, he had the privilege of holding his mate in his arms when she next went back to sleep, her head tucked safely into his chest beneath his chin, his arms as tight around her as he could safely manage. He tangled their legs together, wanting her as close as he could get her.

He felt like he could breathe easily, having her there, where anything that wanted her would have to go through him first — securely wrapped in his arms where he knew he could protect her.

He would never, ever take that simple pleasure for granted again — no matter what the next day brought, which he wasn't so naive as to believe couldn't be disastrous again in its own right, dropping him right back to square one.

* * *

Eager to get back down to their cottage and spend the morning alone together before he had to leave her that afternoon, Edward gently eased himself out from beneath Bella's still-sleeping form the next morning. He made his way to the kitchen to start her breakfast himself, with a spring in his step, actually whistling a tune as he did so, much to Esme's and Alice's delight.

Everyone in the house had some idea what had happened, of course. It wasn't as though their ears were deaf to Bella's nighttime screams or the things they had said to each other afterward — including her asking him to stay in the bed with her.

Esme had poked her head in to check on Bella during her nightmare, as she faithfully did each time Bella awoke screaming, in case Edward needed help. Seeing Bella finally pouring out her tears in Edward's arms had been a most welcome sight to the mother who was so worried about them both. Esme couldn't keep the smile off her face watching him make Bella breakfast.

So Edward chalked up Bella's obvious shyness, when she appeared in the kitchen looking for him, to her being well aware of their beaming audience watching him watch her eat with a big goofy smile on his face, as well as an after-effect of their first real physical contact in seven months.

But when that shyness continued when they reached their little cottage, a very nervous Bella sneaking near-constant glances in his direction, biting her lip and being even more of a clumsy menace than was typical, he couldn't blame it on a houseful of nosy vampires anymore.

Familiar as an old friend, that edge of worry was back in his gut.

* * *

She had started wondering what it would be like, somewhere in the middle of working in that cottage with Edward from sunup to sundown every day.

Wondering what it would be like to kiss him again, that is. Wondering if she could do it without panicking, without getting lost in her memories, without seeing Albert coming at her instead of Edward.

Albert's kisses as Edward had been aggressive, demanding, _frightening._ She could barely remember what the real Edward's felt like.

But after five days spent in his constant, steady presence, she wanted to.

Five days of watching his strong, competent hands gently make repair after repair to the little home that had somehow started out in worse shape than her, but was making faster progress than she was.

Five days of Edward's gentle smiles in her direction and his sweet willingness to give her space when she needed it. Five days of seeing him go completely out of his way to do absolutely anything that would make her feel more comfortable in his presence.

He was so sweetly attentive, both to the run-down little house and to _her_. Especially her. She could feel his eyes on her every movement, even when he wasn't looking directly at her. She knew he was always aware of her exact location in the house, her mood, even her heartbeat. She knew this because she watched him too, sneaking glances constantly.

She saw the worried look on his face, sometimes, before he could cover it.

She saw the longing looks too.

He was so careful not to startle her or even get too close without plenty of warning. Trying to hide a racing heartbeat from him was next to impossible. He would tense up every time and give her some space, always assuming the worst.

But it wasn't always the worst. Sometimes, especially the last couple days, her heart raced because of his nearness in a _good_ way.

He treated her like she was made of glass, like she was going to shatter if he reached out to touch her. Sometimes, the racing heart was because she wished he _would_.

Like when he wore that damn baseball cap Alice had left with the supplies. She had a love-hate relationship with that thing — the one that he wore backward when he painted, the one that drove her utterly to distraction because he just looked so rumpled and casual and _hot_ in it, sneaking glances her way from under it and grinning unabashedly when he caught her sneaking a glance right back.

Those times, she couldn't imagine what she was waiting for to try kissing him again. The man clearly adored her and wouldn't hurt her. If she didn't get her hands on him soon, she was going to actually physically combust.

Seriously, was the stupid hat part of some kind of plan of Alice's? The result of some vision? She wouldn't be surprised. It was just so ridiculously effective.

Or maybe it was that Albert hadn't worn a hat when he imitated Edward with her, and it made just enough difference that even her deeply confused and traumatized subconscious couldn't play tricks on her when he wore it. She supposed that was a possibility.

But there were other times, especially when it started getting dark outside and she started dwelling on just how completely alone they were and how strong Edward was, that the memories would start coming back, despite her best effort to hold them off — memories of being held against her will in another little cabin with another vampire who looked just like the man she was currently alone with.

And then, backward baseball cap or no, she would get antsy and nervous, unable to imagine _ever_ wanting him or anybody else to touch her ever again. Not after what Albert did, and how much it all had hurt _._ How much it had hurt for days, and especially when the gynecologist had examined her.

Those times, she was perfectly happy to work in a different room than Edward. And without fail, he let her. But the sadness and hurt in his eyes when she would start fidgeting and then abruptly leave the room haunted her. And it couldn't possibly be coincidence that either Esme or Alice would generally show up _very_ soon after, wanting a tour of the new progress. She'd never caught him, but he had to be responsible for making that happen.

It couldn't be any easier for him than it was for her, and she knew that. She swung back and forth between extremes like the pendulum on a clock. The whole thing was...confusing.

But she knew one thing.

She knew the exact moment she decided she was definitely going to try again, the moment she decided that knowing what it felt like to kiss him again — even if she was a little afraid of flashing back to Albert's demanding kisses and what happened afterward, instead of focusing on Edward — was better than torturing herself with the _wondering_.

She came to that realization on the fifth day in his cottage, when he hopefully and a little proudly pointed out those holes in the wall that he had so clearly put there himself, just because he must have realized how scared she was that their time together would end when she completed that task. Somehow, he must have known.

She'd nearly burst into tears. She was strongly considering throwing herself at him and planting one right on him, because it was just so unbelievably _sweet_.

And then he'd flicked paint at her until they'd ended up in an all-out paint war.

It hadn't been the way she'd have imagined finding herself in the circle of Edward's arms again, but it worked for her. She had strongly considered turning around in his arms and seeing what would happen if she pulled his head down and kissed him right then and there.

If Esme hadn't showed up with lunch, completely embarrassing her, she might have gone through with it.

She'd thought about it the rest of the day.

She'd thought about it while watching those powerful hands start pulling up floorboards like they were toothpicks that afternoon, because he'd gleefully decided to spend way too much money on a new floor, for reasons only he understood — something about him winning the paint battle, when he obviously hadn't, and she wasn't sure how those two things were related anyway. He hadn't wanted to explain it in detail, but he'd seemed pretty sure about the whole thing.

She'd thought about it even more at dinner, when she was really, really trying to get her mind on her chemistry homework instead of the chemistry at the dinner table, the impending explosion between her and her unbelievably attractive 'chemistry tutor', who had watched her out of the corner of his eye as he kept carefully moving his chair closer to hers, until their knees touched.

She'd definitely thought about it in the shower after that, when she'd worked up her nerve, closed her eyes, and experimentally skimmed her fingers across her nipples and the outside of her recently healed vagina just to see if she could handle it.

She couldn't. She tensed up at even her own light touch in those areas she'd been assaulted and hurt. Trying to pretend it was Edward's fingers instead of her own only made things worse.

That was when she lost her nerve to try kissing him when she got the chance, because what was the _fucking_ point? She was about to vomit and end up a sobbing mess on the shower floor at the touch of her _own_ hands. So why would she start something she'd never be able to finish, not even if he somehow talked her into that crazy marriage thing he'd brought up before? She could never go through with something like _that_ if she wasn't sure she could even let him touch her. How would that be fair to Edward?

It wouldn't, she concluded.

It made her angry, finally. _Furious._ She wanted to punch something; to yell and scream and curse at the top of her lungs — every curse word she'd ever heard. She wanted to _break_ things.

Of course, she couldn't do that in a house full of vampires. She couldn't so much as whisper a cuss word or emit a quiet sob without them all hearing it and wanting to jump in and _help._

She'd gone to bed a completely frustrated, defeated mess after that, although for once, she seemed to have done a decent job hiding that fact from Edward. He'd seemed lost in his own thoughts. And they were happy ones, apparently. He'd had a big, contented smile on his face, sprawled out on his back on the couch with his hands linked behind his head, staring at the ceiling when she came back in the room to go to bed.

He'd turned that happy smile on her, one that would have dazzled her even 20 minutes earlier, but now just made her heart ache. She'd managed to fake a smile back at him, in return.

He'd almost certainly have been willing to talk to her about what was bothering her, had he known anything was, but why should both of them be miserable?

So she'd turned over on her futon to face the wall, her back to him where he lay on the couch across the room, and she'd squeezed her eyes shut against the tears until she finally fell asleep.

But the nightmares had come to claim her, even more brutally than usual. She wasn't blind as to the reason.

She'd fallen asleep wondering what would happen if she kissed him; what would happen if he ever tried to touch her intimately.

Her terrorized subconscious was all too willing to provide her with some horrific thoughts on the topic.

Her nightmares usually shifted back and forth between Edward and Albert anyway, one morphing into the other freely. It was why she'd tried so desperately to hide them from Edward.

This was the first time the awful dreams had been only about _Edward_ not taking no for an answer.

Considering that fact, she should have screamed in terror when she opened her eyes and he was _there,_ right beside her bed, fists clenched with the effort it took not to reach out and take her in his arms.

But she didn't scream, and she didn't run. She looked straight into his eyes, and even in her agitated state, there was no missing the love she saw there. The worry. No, scratch that. The _fear_.

She had no doubt the things coming out of her mouth during _that_ particular nightmare had gutted him.

She didn't _want_ to gut him anymore. She didn't want to ever see that look on his face again, that fear that she was going to run from him.

And so she'd finally given in to an impulse that had tortured her since her first night home, sometimes appealing and sometimes terrifying.

She'd thrown herself into his arms and let him comfort her as she poured out every last ounce of her frustration and anger and fear.

And he'd caught her. He'd caught her in every way there was to catch her, both physically and emotionally. He'd made her feel safe. Safe enough that she'd found her courage and asked for his help to find Lacey Matthews.

He'd caught her again, metaphorically speaking. So she dug even deeper and asked him to stay in her bed.

And after spending the entire night in his arms —feeling safe and comfortable, if not exactly warm in his icy embrace — her thoughts once again took a hopeful turn.

Maybe she could do this. Maybe she _could_ be physical with him.

She was going to try it. When the opportunity next presented itself, possibly in their cottage that morning — _his_ cottage, she reminded herself, before she could get carried away — she was going to stop being a coward and just kiss him.

And that was when the nervousness started.

* * *

After the fourth time he watched Bella trip that morning, and the third time the paintbrush dropped out of her hands, splattering everywhere instead of fixing the mess they'd made on the walls with their paint war the day before, Edward just couldn't take her nervous glances his way anymore.

He was sitting sprawled out on the ground, finishing the job of pulling up the old flooring in the living room, but he finally gave up any pretense of being even remotely interested in it.

"Bella?" he asked softly, fixing her with his full attention, his hands stilling as he looked up at her across the room. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not really," he heard her peevishly mutter under her breath. And despite the situation, his lips twitched. Irritable, grumpy Bella he could deal with. He'd been the cause of it often enough in the past. He rather doubted it had anything to do with sexual frustration this time around, though, like it usually had back then. But it definitely had _something_ to do with him.

She followed up a little louder, pointedly not looking in his direction. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I'm great."

The way she was stabbing the paintbrush into the wall wasn't a painting technique with which he was familiar. It wasn't reassuring, either.

"Mmmm," he hummed skeptically. "I can see that. Anything I can help with?"

He hadn't really meant for that question to shove her the rest of the way over whatever edge she was teetering on. She shrugged her shoulders, on a breathless, mirthless laugh.

"Yes. No. Maybe? I don't know," was her confusing reply, definitely covering all the possible answers to his question, while still somehow managing not to give him the first clue what was actually going on.

It shocked the hell out of him when she abruptly threw her paintbrush in the bucket like it had personally offended her, determinedly crossing the room to him in five strides. She dropped to her knees to kneel right between his spread legs, balancing herself with her hands on his knees.

He didn't dare _move,_ staring at her with wide eyes and parted lips. He scarcely dared _breathe._

"This is ridiculous," she said, sounding completely put-out and annoyed. "I'm just going to do it, okay?"

Was he supposed to have the first idea what she was talking about? Because he didn't.

And then her eyes dropped to his lips, as her tongue darted out to moisten her own.

Oh.

_Oh._

She leaned closer, her breath shaky. He was right there with her.

Not since the first time he'd kissed her had he overthought the matter quite so obsessively. Where should he put his hands? How much pressure should he apply? Should he take the lead? How long should he let the kiss go on?

She still got jumpy around him sometimes, more often than he would like. What if Bella got scared while kissing him? Worse, what if Bella, determined to prove something to either him or herself, tried to take things farther than she was ready for? If he had to be the one to stop it, would she go back to believing he didn't want her and start shutting him out again?

It was hard enough not falling off the tightrope he had walked ever since his return, even _without_ adding the physical back into their relationship. He already straddled that razor-thin line every day — the one between making his desire for her clear enough that she didn't feel rejected in the slightest fashion, especially considering he had left her for seven months, and yet making sure he didn't make his attraction _too_ obvious and trigger some kind of damn memory from her attack.

It was a high wire with no safety net, and he already felt like he was walking it blindfolded and with his hands shackled behind his back.

At the same time, he _wanted_ to kiss her again, more than he'd wanted anything in a very long time. The nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach was as intensely pleasurable as it was scary.

But their lips never made contact, because there was a knock on the front door, startling them both.

Alice, he already knew, ostensibly letting them know the delivery truck was pulling up at that very moment.

He'd have lamented her timing, but with Alice there was no such thing as coincidences. She mentally let him know — and him alone — that her timing was intentional. That kiss wouldn't have ended well, at that exact moment, had there been no interruption. Bella's decision to push herself into something she wasn't ready for — and his own reluctance to participate for fear of overdoing it — would have ended with Bella in frustrated tears, not to mention her erecting a wall between them that it would have taken him weeks to break through.

Bella knew none of that. She didn't know who was at the door, and she didn't really seem interested. She just rocked back to sit all the way down on her knees, her gaze dropping to the floor between them. She sighed heavily and then got to her feet to open the door, never glancing at him again or even asking who was there.

He'd never seen her so completely irritated and frustrated as in that moment.

* * *

It didn't take long for the boxes of flooring to be piled up beside the wall in neat stacks, nor for the delivery driver to leave. He seemed very, very eager to do so, in the face of Edward's noticeable agitation. He wasn't doing _human_ well, at the moment, in his impatience to be done with that task and repair whatever had just happened between him and Bella.

But the man was eventually gone, and it was time for Edward to keep his promise and leave to go look for Lacey Matthews — something he was suddenly even more reluctant to do, considering the fact that Bella hadn't willingly made eye contact with him since Alice knocked on the door. And that was despite his very best efforts to draw her gaze.

Alice and Esme were both there, waiting to escort Bella back to the main house for him, but he wasn't letting her go yet. He wasn't leaving things the way they were between them. Not a chance.

He motioned for his family to stay put in the living room before he walked into the guest bedroom, where Bella was hiding under the pretense of organizing the supplies Alice had dropped off. She briefly glanced over her shoulder at him and then went right back to what she was doing, reaching up to angrily swipe away tears from her face with her back turned to him, as though there was any chance he might actually miss the fact that she was _crying_.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. And then he walked straight up to her without stopping and calmly caught her closest hand in his, turning her to face him.

"Hey," he said gently, offering her a soft smile. "Look at me a minute."

She clearly didn't want to, but she did it anyway. Her eyes were puffy, and she was already blushing before she ever made eye contact.

They both knew exactly what she was embarrassed about, so he didn't pretend not to. He gave her hand a light squeeze.

"There's no rush, Bella. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay."

She looked away, turning even brighter red. She pulled her hand back and he reluctantly let go, watching as she tucked both her hands into her back pockets, breaking contact with him.

"What if I'm always like this?" she asked the wall on the other side of the room. "What if this never goes away?"

Undeterred, he briefly brought one gentle finger to her cheek, to turn her face back toward him. _Don't close me out_ , he wanted to beg. _Not after last night, not after you finally let me in._

"It will," he said firmly. "It's only been a few days. There's no pressure here, sweetheart. There's no timetable."

That only seemed to irritate her further. She scoffed, losing her aversion to eye contact as she pinned him with a hard gaze.

"Isn't there? You already said you want to get _married_. That you want this to be our _house._ You already have the ring in a box with my name on it, for God's sake. How is that supposed to work? I can't even _kiss_ you! I can't even...God, Edward. I can't even touch _myself._ How am I ever supposed to let _you_ do it?"

His eyebrow went up at the revelation that she'd tried. He thought he'd done a pretty good job keeping a close eye on her every waking moment. But clearly, he'd missed something somewhere. Something of pretty vital importance, actually.

His response was as blunt as her question.

"You're not, if you don't want to. Sex is not what I'm after, Bella. You, of all people, should know that. It's certainly not the reason I want to marry you. And I would never want you pushing yourself into something you're not ready for, for my sake. We have plenty of time."

She softened but didn't completely give in. "But what if this _never_ goes away?" she asked again, eyes pleading.

"What if it doesn't?" he repeated, shrugging without concern. "I thought we had already established there's nothing that could possibly make me love you any less."

She shook her head. "You say that now. But forever's a long time, Edward," she warned, like she thought _that_ would scare him off.

He smiled at that one, reaching up to carefully push her hair behind her ear. "Thank God for that. It still won't be long enough with you, but it's a start. Come here."

He hadn't realized how tense he was until Bella let him very cautiously pull her into his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead. All of the tension in his body melted away when she accepted his embrace and put her own arms around his waist, with a huge sigh into his chest.

But her tension, unlike his, didn't dissipate. He could feel it in her frame, the way she all but vibrated against him with tightly wound energy.

"Why don't I stay here with you this afternoon?" he suggested, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. "I don't want to leave you right now. I can go first thing tomorrow."

She shook her head against his chest, but her arms around him tightened despite her words. "No, it's okay. I need this to happen. I need to know she's been found. I just need it all to be _over._ "

He pulled her back just far enough, with his hands on her shoulders, to see her. "Only if you promise me we're okay. You're my top priority, Bella. I'm not leaving you with something wrong between us. Not today, not ever."

"I'm fine," she assured him, but the way her lip trembled, it wasn't convincing. "Just be careful, okay?"

He brought one hand gently to the back of her head, as he leaned down and very intentionally kissed her on the cheek, not far from the corner of her mouth. "I will."

And he would, especially with the knowledge that no one else could protect her from Albert and Victoria more effectively than he could.

He moved his lips back up to her forehead for one more adoring kiss, and then he quickly left.

* * *

Jasper and Emmett had been able to give him the coordinates of the spot they and Jacob had found Bella and Albert, so Edward found it easily.

Not so easy was keeping a lid on his emotions when he stood for the first time at the scene of her attack, a place that he recognized after seeing it vividly through Jacob's memories.

There wasn't much to see there, aside from some impressions in the ground. The outdoor elements had long since washed away any scent trails. It was more what that spot represented.

What lay just a short distance away was nearly as disturbing. That was where he found the pile of Lacey Matthews' ruined belongings, dumped in the woods, with the back of the cabin visible to his eyes through the trees. At least now he understood what Bella had been talking about, when she mentioned seeing the girl's pictures in the woods. This must be the direction Bella had run when she made her escape attempt, only to find this macabre pile of the remnants of a life.

He picked up a picture frame, letting it dangle between his fingers, using his sleeve to wipe off the filthy glass.

And the picture, when he had cleaned it enough to see, hit him harder than he expected.

A smiling brunette with long glossy hair and a heart-shaped face, proudly holding up a set of car keys in front of an old red SUV. Close to the same age as Bella, in that picture. Similar build. Warm brown eyes. Even the same ridiculous pride in an old beater of a vehicle.

There was little doubt why Albert had chosen her as a practice target before going after Bella. The physical resemblance was striking.

If he were human, he'd have emptied the contents of his stomach all over the ground. Instead, he swallowed the venom pooling in his throat and carefully gathered the rest of the picture frames and a few other mementos the family might want. He carried them with him as he made his way into the cabin, leaving them on a small table just inside the front door when he gently forced it open with his shoulder.

Inside the closed-up cabin, where there had been no rain to dilute the scents, the very first thing he smelled was Bella. And Albert.

He hated the mingling of those two scents. He hated it with a passion.

There were other scents that surely belonged to the owner, Lacey Matthews, and her ill-fated pet. He committed them to memory. But Bella's and Albert's scents were the most recent.

The police must not yet be aware of Lacey's disappearance. No one else had been inside since the night Bella and Albert spent there together.

Spent the _night_ together. With Albert disguised as _him._

His jaw clenched at that thought, fear chewing on his insides — fear of what he would learn there. He and Bella had both done too good a job of denying reality for the past several days, while working on their cabin, pushing everything under the rug to face later.

But the fact was that he still didn't know everything that had happened between them, and it was eating him alive.

He would keep his promise and look for Lacey Matthews. But first, he would go over that cabin with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything that might tell him what happened there.

As he made his way slowly through the cabin, in each new location that he found her scent, Bella's words rang in his mind, with perfect recall.

The living room first drew his attention, the mingled scents strongest on the living room couch. The two of them had sat there together. Very close together.

_Every time he touched me or kissed me, I knew it didn't feel right._

His hands balled up in fists. He had a feeling he knew where some of that had happened.

He walked through every room in the house, one at a time, inhaling deeply. He knew exactly which rooms Bella had entered, right down to the things she had touched — like the kitchen cabinets, as she had gone looking for food, clues, or both.

She must have been terrified. At what point had her worst fears started to set in, he wondered, when she'd begun to doubt every single word he'd ever said to her; begun to believe he was nothing but a murderer who would have eventually killed her too?

_Then at some point, I realized you must have killed her ... I even started to wonder if this was something you did all the time, some kind of sick game ... I thought maybe your family was even in on it, that they covered for you; that I was just the last in a long line of play toys._

That had hurt. He hadn't let her see it, because he'd desperately been trying to prove himself to her, prove his unconditional devotion.

It had hurt, nonetheless.

But it was the cabin's small master bedroom that nearly pushed him over the edge.

It was stripped bare of anything personal, like the rest of the house, but the woman's scent was strongest there.

Unfortunately, so was Bella's and Albert's. The bed covers were completely saturated in all three scents.

Bella had not once mentioned a bed to him. But she'd spent quite some time in that bed. All night, perhaps.

And so had Albert, at some point. Albert and his venom, to be precise. That was the other lingering scent assaulting his nose.

The bed reeked of sex. Albert had had Lacey Matthews there, without a doubt.

Had he had Bella too?

_You don't know what I did. You wouldn't want me anymore._

His earlier fears and suspicions came roaring back.

Bella had been crystal clear that there was something she didn't intend to tell him. And she couldn't even bring herself to kiss him.

What had happened in that bed?

He felt on the edge of losing his mind. He needed the full truth of what had been done to his mate.

And he needed it yesterday.

* * *

Once he had gleaned every piece of information possible from inside, he left that cabin as quickly as he could.

He ran a grid pattern in a radius around it, trying to pick up any scent of rotting flesh.

And five miles out, he caught a whiff that led him even deeper into the woods, straight to a shallow grave.

An empty one, as it turned out.

Lacey Matthews' body had been there, for at least a few days. There was no doubt of that.

But it wasn't anymore. He didn't even need to pick up the other scent there to know who had removed it — very _recently_ removed it.

Albert was back in Forks.

Further confirmation of that chilling fact came when his phone started ringing near immediately.

It was Carlisle. And he did not have good news.

"I think you should come home, Edward," Carlisle told him grimly, as worried as the usually calm doctor ever sounded. "Something just happened, and I'm not sure what it means yet."

Edward was already moving.

"Bella?" he asked in a panic.

"She's fine. She's in the living room with your mother and sisters, and I'll be with them again the moment we hang up. As far as she's concerned, everyone just spontaneously decided to watch a movie together today. She isn't aware there's anything out of the ordinary going on. If anything, she seems annoyed with our hovering."

"What _is_ going on?" Edward demanded tightly.

"I received an interesting phone call a few minutes ago. I haven't left the house today, as you know. But apparently, I had a conversation with Dr. Granville in the hallway outside my office this morning at the hospital. I agreed to do a consultation with him on a patient of his over lunch, and then I never showed up."

_Jesus._ Edward pushed his speed to its limits. "It was him, Carlisle. He's back in Forks. I found where he buried Lacey Matthews. He dug her back up very recently. I lost the trail at the road, so he must have moved her in a vehicle."

Carlisle made a disapproving sound in his throat, sounding aghast at that information. "I just spoke with Jasper. Albert's trail went cold about 36 hours ago while they were running down a new batch of false scent trails he left. Your brothers suspected that might mean he was on his way back to Forks, so they started home this morning. They'll be here any moment now. When they arrive, I'll leave them here with the girls and make a trip to the hospital to check on things there."

Edward swore under his breath. " _No_. I need to be there when they get there. I'm the only one who can know for sure if they're both...them."

Carlisle rushed to reassure him. "Jasper thought of that. They've stayed within each other's sight since the moment they started tracking, so there will be no issue of identity."

"Fine. I'll be there as fast as I can, regardless," Edward promised grimly.

"I know, son. We'll take care of her. Just be safe."

* * *

His phone started ringing again, just as he finally reached the edge of the woods outside the main house. Carlisle again, probably at the hospital by now, because he could hear the thoughts of Jasper and Emmett inside the house. Edward stayed hidden where he was to take the call.

"I pulled the security tape," Carlisle informed him, the moment Edward answered. "If I didn't know that I was never here this morning, I would believe it was me too. He broke the lock and entered my office just after 9 this morning, right after stopping in the hall to speak with Dr. Granville, just like he told me."

Edward grit his teeth, eyes scanning the perimeter constantly. "Any idea what he wanted there?"

Carlisle hesitated, and Edward lost his patience. "Damn it, Carlisle, I'm fine. Now is not the time. What was he doing there?"

"He broke into my safe. It was built to withstand humans, not vampires. The only thing missing is the bag with Bella's clothes from the night of the attack."

Edward's eyes closed against the surge of rage that shot through him.

That sick bastard _._ Sick, deranged, psychotic, fucking _bastard._

"I'm going to hurt him, Carlisle," Edward said, very quietly and seriously, feeling the tremor in his fingers. "I have every intention of torturing him when I find him. I'm going to make him beg me to die. You understand that, right?"

Carlisle sighed. "I could have guessed as much, yes. I can't say he hasn't earned whatever happens to him. But don't allow your thirst for vengeance to take your eyes off Bella. That could be exactly what he's hoping to accomplish with this move."

His father was right, and he knew it. He nodded tersely, though Carlisle couldn't see him, and disconnected the call.

* * *

The moment Edward walked inside the house, Emmett appeared two feet in front of him. And he was not there to play games.

Edward's usually playful brother was serious as a heart attack, drawn up to his full height and with every muscle coiled and ready. Jasper, he already knew, was fast on his way around the house, intending to come in the still-open door behind him, where they would have him surrounded.

They weren't letting him take another step closer to the living room — where Bella was — until they knew he was him. They would rip him into pieces for one wrong move.

And he was nothing but completely grateful.

He stopped in his tracks. "It's me, Em. Ask me something, in your head."

_What year was I changed?_ Emmett cracked his knuckles, clearly ready for a fight. Jasper was ready for one too, though he hadn't shown himself yet. He wanted the element of surprise.

"1935," Edward replied calmly. "But you should ask me something they couldn't have researched."

_What city am I thinking of?_ That far better question came from behind him, from the still-hidden Jasper, who was quite literally ready to take his head off if he didn't respond immediately and correctly.

"Albuquerque, New Mexico."

Emmett's eyes went over Edward's head, waiting for Jasper to nod the all-clear, which he must have received. His entire demeanor changed, a smile breaking out over his face as he surged forward to hug his brother.

"Good to see you, little brother."

Edward chuckled as Emmett gave it his best shot to crush his spine with a bear hug. "You too, believe it or not," he responded, with a clap on the back. A more reserved Jasper clasped his hand in a warm handshake.

"Thank you, both," Edward said sincerely. "You'll never know what it means to me that you were both there for her."

He didn't mean to, but Emmett's mind automatically flashed back to the moment he'd caught Bella when she collapsed, wearing only his hoodie, after she had run during his and Jasper's fight with Jacob and Paul. He remembered the look on her face as he had tried desperately to calm her and let her know she was safe.

"For that most of all," Edward said quietly. "Thank you."

He hadn't seen it from the perspective of his brothers yet. Emmett's view of Bella's terrified face looking up at him as he carried her, chanting over and over that _it wasn't him...it wasn't Edward_ — the way she'd knotted his tank-top up in her fingers until the fabric was completely stretched out from the terrified way she held onto him — it was all overwhelming.

Jasper's viewpoint was more tactical, less emotional, but he had been affected as well. Bella's complete terror had been almost more than he could handle. As had the smell of her blood. It was he who had collected her clothes to keep from leaving anything at the scene, and he who had run as close to Emmett as he dared, trying to infuse as much calm into the terrified, bleeding girl in Emmett's arms as he could.

Edward had to stop listening. It was simply too much when he needed his head on straight so that he could protect Bella. Instead, he filled them in quickly on what Carlisle had told him.

"She's been through enough," he said in closing. "I have no choice but to tell her about the missing body, but she doesn't need to know Albert is likely nearby. She's on edge enough as it is."

Jasper agreed with that, obviously, so Edward risked another scan of his thoughts. Jasper had apparently borne the brunt of Bella's emotions since he arrived.

Through Jasper's impressions, Edward finally had some idea of exactly what Bella was feeling.

Frustration. Anger. _Rage,_ more accurately. Helplessness. Lack of control. Irritability. Literally everything annoyed her, including the well-meaning efforts of his family, though she politely hid it as best she could. And even that effort was wearing on her.

It was very close to the same emotions he'd struggled with for days.

He'd already known this, deep down, but they had swept everything under the rug for as long as they could. He and Bella were going to have to start facing things.

Together.

That last part was vital. He would not let this drive them apart, no matter what he believed happened in that cabin.

He _wouldn't._

* * *

When he walked into the living room, his mother and sisters were not surprised to see him. They had heard the entire conversation between he and his brothers at the door. Had he not passed his brothers' identity test, the women had been poised and ready to attack, too — to defend his Bella.

The fact that Bella looked glad to see him flooded him with relief, after what had happened earlier in the day. She jumped to her feet, quickly coming over to him and grabbing hold of his arm. He relished the contact, covering her hand with his own.

"Did you find her?" she asked hopefully.

He could feel every eye in the room focused on him with sympathy, already knowing the answer, but his gaze never wavered from his mate. He shook his head in the negative.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I found where he originally hid her," he told her gently. "But she's not still there."

Her lips parted, her face going white. "You mean...you mean she was already found, right?" she pled.

She already knew the answer to that. He could tell by her face. He put his other hand at her waist, steadying her. "No, Bella. I mean that he came back and moved her."

She licked dry lips. "When?"

"Recently," he said with as gentle a voice as he'd ever used. "I can't be sure. I followed the scent trail to the road, and it disappeared there."

He watched as Bella swallowed hard. "So he must have put her in a car," she said on a shudder. And Edward suppressed his own shudder, because he truly hated that she so instantly knew things like that, thanks to her exposure to his world and all of the violence she'd already endured at the hands of James and now Albert. All because of _him._

But he couldn't dwell on that, at the moment. Not when Bella looked ready to come apart.

Edward could feel the fresh wave of calm Jasper pushed in the direction of them both, and he again listened in on Jasper's impressions of Bella's emotions. He was thinking that the poor girl had been so ready to have at least some part of the entire ordeal in the past. If she couldn't accomplish anything for herself, she had been anxious to at least accomplish something for the girl who had suffered a similar but worse fate. To have her plans fall apart, after coming so close, was just too much at the end of an already rough day.

And Edward agreed.

"What do you think he's going to do with her?" Bella pled, her eyes getting misty, and Edward winced.

"I'm not sure. He may have suspected we were getting too close. Maybe he assumed we would try to find her, and he doesn't want her found, for some reason. He likely just moved her to a better hiding place."

Thanks to Jasper, Edward had some idea of exactly how high Bella's frustration level was.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, sounding completely defeated.

He took a deep breath. It was definitely not the time to start interrogating her. She needed his calm, not his storm.

"Now you have dinner," he replied firmly. "We work on your homework, together. Then you get some rest, and we'll go back down to the cottage in the morning and talk about what to do next. Just you and me."

His calm decisiveness, regardless of how forced, must have been exactly what she had needed. Because she relaxed somewhat and nodded her head in agreement.

Esme, bless her, immediately appeared to put a motherly arm around Bella's shoulders and lead her to the kitchen, with the promise of her latest culinary experiments that Bella still hadn't realized were meant solely to fatten her up.

It warmed Edward's heart that Bella looked back over her shoulder as she walked away with Esme, clearly hoping he would follow. Which he did.

He wasn't letting her out of his sight, in fact, other than when she went to take her shower. And even then, he'd be standing outside the house, beneath the bathroom window, with his eyes on the woods and on full alert.

Part of him almost hoped Albert was stupid enough to try him tonight. He was just as dangerously volatile and ready to explode as Bella.

Perhaps even more so.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	13. Detonation

Chapter 13

Inhale. Exhale. Straddle that imaginary line.

It was Edward's mantra, of late.

Be supportive; but don't push. Let her know she's loved and wanted; but don't overdo it. Know when to reach out; but know when to back off.

Walk that tightrope perfectly.

He was beginning to realize that one thing was inevitable...

He was eventually going to fall off.

* * *

Edward wasn't at all surprised that after her very long and overly emotional day, Bella was completely exhausted and yawning by the time she walked into his bedroom after her shower that night.

He had only arrived back there himself a few seconds earlier, coming back inside as soon as he heard the water cut off. He wanted to already be there, waiting for her, when she got to his room. The last thing he wanted was for her to be alarmed by the fact that he'd suddenly felt the need to stand guard outside the bathroom window that particular night.

He also didn't want to assume that just because he'd been welcomed into her bed the night before, that it automatically followed that he had some kind of standing invitation. No one knew better than he that Bella's reactions — especially to _him —_ currently varied wildly from one moment to the next. So when she came in, he was sitting on the couch with a book he was pretending to read, hoping she would give him some indication what she expected of him.

But she must have been hoping the same of him. Because she stopped in her tracks in the middle of the room, looking back and forth between him and her futon, biting her lip and looking completely lost. Her eyes were puffy, red-rimmed. She'd been crying again, damn it.

He couldn't take it, and he no longer had the heart to force her to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room. He'd just make an offer and leave it up to her to accept or shoot him down.

But maybe, for both of their sakes, he would start with a neutral location.

He set his book aside, opening his arms in invitation.

"Come sit with me a minute?" he asked uncertainly. If he was human, his heart would be racing. He was about to know just how many steps backward he'd taken that day, after finally holding her in his arms the first time the night before.

But Bella wasted no time in coming straight to him and sitting down right in his lap on the couch, apparently as eager to be in his embrace as he was to have her there. She lay her head on his shoulder and sniffled, fighting tears. He closed his arms around her and cuddled her to his chest, practically purring with contentment.

And she stayed there willingly until her yawns outnumbered her sniffles, at which point she settled the issue herself.

"Can we go to bed now?" she mumbled into his neck, yawning. And he couldn't help the way his hold tightened with relief.

"Anything you want, love," he replied gratefully, preparing to pick her up and carry her to bed.

She didn't stiffen like the last time the endearment slipped through his lips, but he did. He froze right where he was.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Force of habit."

She was probably too sleepy to realize just how much her sleepy, half-slurred response meant to him, how much it touched his heart.

"No, s'okay. I don't want you to stop saying it just 'cause...you know...of _him_. With you, 's okay."

_With you it's okay._ His chest felt like it would burst with emotion. God help him, she was going to be the death of him yet.

He didn't trust his voice to reply, so he just adjusted his grip so that he could lift her and carry her to the futon, where he set her down and relinquished his hold only long enough to lie down beside her and pull her fully back into his embrace against his chest.

And despite the horrible day they'd both had, they hit a milestone that night.

It was the first night Bella made it through without a single nightmare.

But Edward was so deep in thought, wondering how to approach the questions he knew he could no longer wait to have answered, that that fact barely registered.

* * *

For every single doubt Bella had gone through the day before about kissing him, they were all gone by the second morning she woke up just having spent the entire night in his arms.

They had been replaced by healthy anticipation.

Breakfast was going to be nothing more than an obstacle to endure. She couldn't wait to get to their cottage.

She'd had an epiphany the night before.

_With you it's okay._

That sentiment could be applied to a lot of things, she'd realized, just as she was falling asleep. And it changed her entire perspective.

She had been so worried that the moment she got close — the moment her lips touched Edward's — she would freeze up, fall into her memories. That her mind would believe it was Albert kissing her again, making her feel panicky and trapped, desperate to escape — being pushed for more than she wanted to give. She would panic, push him away, even end up in a ball on the floor screaming or something.

And that would surely be the end of even Edward's plentiful patience with her, patience that had to be wearing thin by now.

She'd worried about that so much she'd completely forgotten one important point:

It wasn't pushy, impatient, evil Albert she'd be kissing. It was Edward, who loved her beyond all reason.

So long as she made it a point to remember that, she thought she would be okay.

But from the moment she walked into the kitchen for breakfast, nothing went the way she thought it would.

For all that _she_ had been nervously quiet the day before, when she'd been trying to work up her nerve for her failed attempt to kiss Edward for the first time since he'd left her, she found Edward to be doubly quiet and pensive during her breakfast that morning.

He still smiled at her whenever he saw her looking at him, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He still answered when she spoke to him. He still offered her his arm as they walked to the cottage, keeping her pulled close to his side as his ever-watchful eyes roved their surroundings protectively.

But his silence only became more pronounced as they walked through the door of the cottage and he immediately started preparing to lay the flooring in the living room, lost in his thoughts.

In an almost complete reversal of their roles from the day before, she sneaked peeks at him, watching him sit on the ground 'working' and casting nervous glances her way, until she simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Edward?" she finally asked tentatively, from where she stood across the room, putting one final coat on the repairs from their paint battle. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

He looked up and met her eyes, one corner of his lips briefly turning up as he recognized his own words from the day before.

"Not really," he said softly, using the same reply she'd given him, albeit far more gently. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, which had gone still. "But we do have to talk about it. We have to finish talking about it, Bella. It can't wait anymore. We can't just keep pretending it never happened. I haven't wanted to push you. But maybe I should have."

"Oh." It was all she could think of to say, especially with her heart suddenly in her throat. She sat down on the floor right where she stood, swallowing hard. "Edward..." she just shook her head, not able to say more.

"I need you to understand why I'm forcing this discussion," he said seriously, still not looking at her. He was fixated on his own hands — wondering what Bella saw when she looked at them, after what Albert had done to her with his identical ones. "It's not merely to satisfy some morbid curiosity. I'm certainly not trying to upset you. And I won't be upset with you for anything you tell me. I can promise you that, Bella, although I know you don't trust my promises right now."

That made her flinch. She'd forgotten about that angry, hurt statement she'd made early on, when she'd told him not to make promises.

Edward clearly hadn't forgotten. He'd taken it to heart.

"I really do just want to help you deal with what happened. But also..." he hesitated.

"Also, what?" she whispered, more of a stall tactic than anything — a way to keep _him_ talking so she didn't have to. She found herself fighting the urge to bolt and run from Edward for the first time in days. Even more so when he abruptly looked up and his serious eyes pinned her in place.

"Yesterday, you wanted to kiss me, and it scared the hell out of me," he confessed, his voice raw. "It scared me as much as it scared you, because I still don't know everything he did to you. It scares me every time I reach out to touch you. I _want_ to be close to you again, sweetheart, if you do, but I need to know. I need to know everything so that I don't...do something by accident. Something that makes you think of _him._ "

Her eyes squeezed shut, her breath coming harder as the panic welled up deep inside. "Edward, please," she begged. "I can't do this right now. I can't talk about this with you."

She heard his shaky exhale. "Neither can I. But we have to, and we'll get through it together. Stay put. I'm coming to you."

And seconds later, he wasn't sitting across the room anymore. He was sitting crosslegged on the ground directly in front of her, holding his hand out, palm up, for her to take. His worried eyes did their best to smile encouragingly at her, but she never saw them.

She was completely fixated on that outstretched, open hand.

Reaching for her. Making her feel trapped.

It felt like her lungs were being squeezed shut. She couldn't _breathe._

Albert had reached for her exactly like that, in the moments right before he kidnapped her. And he'd wanted something from her, too. He'd wanted lots of things she wasn't willing to give.

_Give me your hand, Bella._ _Just c_ _ome with me, and I'll explain everything._

And just like that, it was happening again.

She had to get out of there.

She had to get the hell _out_ of there.

* * *

She had never experienced a flashback before. The disorientation. The queasy nausea.

The pure, unadulterated _terror._

Edward had reached his hand out to her multiple times since Albert abducted her. He'd even reached right out and taken her hand in his a few times. It had never once triggered such a response.

But this time, already feeling trapped by his insistence that they talk, something in her just broke.

Suddenly, she was standing in her back yard, slowly and fearfully approaching the man she believed to be Edward finally returning home for her, and wondering why his familiar golden eyes looked so frightening.

_Give me your hand, Bella._ _Just c_ _ome with me, and I'll explain everything._

She had placed her hand in his that day, despite her unease and how _wrong_ it felt, wanting to honor the commitments she'd made to Edward — to give him, at the very least, a chance to explain why he'd left her.

And that was where her entire nightmare had started. The man she believed to be Edward had jerked her onto his back and taken off with her, leaving her house to catch on fire and taking her against her will to a dead woman's cabin, pressuring her in a way she had never experienced, and ultimately sexually assaulting her in the woods when she'd tried to run away.

He'd made her hurt. He'd had his mouth painfully on her chest while he pinned her arms down, completely helpless. He'd forced her legs open and forced his fingers inside her body, hurting her, _violating_ her.

He'd done every bit of that with Edward's face, Edward's mouth, Edward's fingers, Edward's _body._

He'd made her say Edward's name when he did it, look into eyes that were _Edward's._

And now she was right back at the beginning, in her yard, with the same choice to make.

It wasn't Edward in front of her, at that moment, reaching for her all over again. It was _him_. She could feel the dampness in the air, even hear the dripping of the raindrops off the leaves from the recent rain. She could smell the herbed chicken she had left cooking in the oven.

It was so _real._

She knew exactly what that hand was going to do to her if she agreed to go. She knew how it would touch her — the pain and terror she would go through.

And she wasn't going with him willingly this time. He could kill her, if he wanted, but she _wasn't_ _fucking going._

"No!" she shouted.

She pushed backward away from him on the floor, then quickly scrambled to her feet, backing up until her back slammed into the wall.

Why was there a wall in her yard? The sickening lurch of disorientation made her queasy. Her eyes squeezed shut, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Bella," she heard a velvet voice, someone standing just in front of her. "Bella, it's just me. You're safe, sweetheart. We're here in our cottage."

"Don't touch me!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. " _Don't touch me!"_

* * *

The one scenario Edward had feared since the beginning of their entire ordeal had finally happened, despite every single effort he'd made to prevent it.

But it was nothing like he'd expected.

He'd built this up in his head, dreaded it, thought that it would completely destroy him if it happened — if Bella ever looked right through him like she didn't know him, screamed at him not to touch her.

But he was shocked to find that it didn't destroy him. Because in reality, watching his worst fear happen right in front of him, he could see it for exactly what it was.

It wasn't _him_ Bella was running from. It was her memories. It was Albert. _Not him._

Him, she _needed_. She needed him to be strong enough to ground her, to pull her back into reality, and then help her deal with whatever caused it.

He was, strangely, calmer than he'd been since the first moment Alice had her vision. He was _prepared._ He'd done his homework, knew this was a possibility — especially considering how much time she spent every day alone with him, the man who looked exactly like her attacker — and he knew what to do.

Even just the fact that he _had_ something he could do, for once — unlike so much of the time up to that point, where he'd felt impotently useless — was reassuring.

"I'm not going to touch you, Bella," he promised, his voice calm. "You're safe. You're just remembering. Try to open your eyes, sweetheart. Focus on the sound of my voice and follow it back. I'm right here."

She tried to back away farther, only growing more agitated when her back came up against the solid resistance of the wall once again. She yelped in fear, her hands coming up in front of her to defend herself.

"That's just the wall in the living room, Bella," he said evenly. "We're here in our cottage. I was putting the floor in. You were painting. The paint is still wet. You can reach back and put your hand on it, if you want. Do you feel that?"

It took some time and more coaxing, but he breathed a sigh of relief when one of her hands tentatively dropped down to her side, her trembling fingers exploring the wall behind her as he had directed. He was starting to get through to her.

"See? Just some wet paint. You're not there, Bella. You're here with me, and you're safe. I won't let anything hurt you. You know I won't. Open your eyes now, love."

Like she was moving underwater, she slowly pulled her hand up in front of her chest and opened her eyes, staring down at the streaks of gray on her palm and blinking with confusion.

"Just focus on breathing, Bella. Deep breaths."

She startled at his voice that time, like she wasn't even aware he'd spoken before then, but her eyes did slowly leave her hand and migrate to his face.

"Edward?" she asked, sounding completely lost.

He thought his knees might actually buckle with relief.

"It's me, Bella. You're okay now. You're safe."

Inhale. Exhale. Stay balanced. Control his emotions. Control his strength. Don't grab her and crush her in his embrace. Don't...

Just don't. Don't follow a single one of his instincts, apparently. He'd tried that, and he'd pushed her right over the edge.

"Please forgive me," he apologized imploringly, still afraid to touch her. "I'm so, so sorry."

All that newfound certainty he'd felt had gone right out the window. He'd kept it together when he knew Bella needed him. Now that it was over, he was trembling too. Scared completely out of his mind that she might run from him, shut him out for good; terrified that next time, he might not be able to reach her.

Tentatively, he opened his arms in invitation. "Come here?" he pled, so very unsure this time. "Please?" his voice cracked.

But she didn't come to him.

All the color had just drained out of her face — and despite the fact that he was now certain she was past the flashback and knew who he was, there was just something about the way she was looking at him that made his stomach sink.

"Bella?" he asked again, but lowered his arms.

He may not have known what just happened in her mind or what was coming.

He did know that both were very, very bad.

"Did you know?" she whispered, sounding horrified. Her eyes were accusing.

He kept his tone even, his hands neutrally by his side. What he wanted was to reach out and grab her, physically hold on to her, because he had a terrifying awareness that she might be about to slip through his fingers.

"Did I know what?" he asked, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"When you left me," she clarified, studying him with open fear in her eyes — that same look she'd held the first few days after he returned, when she had distrusted his feelings for her so very deeply. "Did you _know?_ Did you know this was going to happen to me?"

The question hit him in the chest like a wrecking ball that knocked every ounce of air from his lungs. He couldn't even get a breath.

It sounded like such an innocuous question, _did you know_. One that implied a simple yes or no answer.

But there was nothing simple about it — least of all the fact that he _still_ knew what was going to happen to her if he didn't find a way to change it, and he hadn't told her that yet either. Despite what had already been done to Bella, Alice's vision remained unchanged, aside from the timing implied by the snow in the most recent version.

He couldn't tell her that. He _wouldn't_ tell her that.

He'd promised not to lie to her, and he'd meant it. But to tell her that she was in danger of Albert getting her away from him again and finishing the job this time, in just a few short months, when the snow fell? _No._ His entire being rebelled against it.

She had started backing farther away from him along the wall. His hands reached out of their own volition and clutched reflexively at her shoulders, unwilling to let her put too much space between them. He was afraid he might not get her back, if she got too far away at the moment.

"Alice had a vision the day I left, of you being attacked," he told her, guardedly. "So the answer is yes, to some extent. I knew the nature of the danger."

Her eyes filled up with tears as she shivered beneath his hands. "So you knew what he was going to do to me? The way he would...he would hurt me?"

No, actually. He had known it would be much, much worse. He still knew that.

"I had the general idea, yes." His voice was tight with fear, with anger, with the _unknown_ , not knowing what she was thinking or where this was going; tight with the knowledge that he was, essentially, lying to her by omission after swearing from the depths of his soul that he wouldn't deceive her about any of this.

He felt the hard tremor that wracked her body, the betrayal in her eyes, before he fully understood it.

"Then...why did you leave me alone?"

The first tear spilled down over her cheeks, and his eyes tracked it in slow motion as he tried to comprehend her words.

"Did you...did you think maybe he was in Brazil? You were trying to find him?" she asked hopefully, her lip trembling and her eyes begging him to just please say _yes_.

The truth of what she was asking slammed into him without mercy.

_She didn't know._ Bella didn't understand, had no concept of the fact that he had fully believed it was _him_ in those visions — him who would be the one to hurt her himself.

She had never known why he really left her, other than his vague assertions that he did it to protect her. Or maybe Carlisle's vague assertions that he'd believed himself a danger to her in some way, which was hardly a new revelation. He'd _always_ believed himself a danger to her, and she knew that. Just not _that_ kind of danger.

She had no idea of what he had put himself through all those months, believing it was _him_ who would do that to her.

The only possible conclusion she could come to, after whatever doubts had been triggered within her by the flashback she just experienced, was that he had knowingly abandoned her to the mercies of a madman — a goddamn _rapist_ — leaving her unprotected against a danger he was fully aware of.

God help him. It was a wonder she was letting him touch her at all.

His trembling hands moved down to clutch her biceps, holding on for dear life.

"Oh, God, Bella, _no,"_ he implored, his voice desperate. "You don't understand. When Alice had that vision, all we saw was...was _me._ There was no context. We all thought... _I_ thought that...that I..."

He trailed off, choking on it. "Damn it, I can't even say it. But if there was even a _chance_ that I could hurt you like that, I couldn't take it. I had to get as far away from you as I could. It was the only way I knew to protect you. God, Bella, please tell me you understand."

He was going to hurt her if he didn't relax his grip, but he was utterly terrified she was going to push him away and slam the door between them, figuratively and literally. Her face had gone even paler, completely white, staring at him in shock, her arms limp in his hands.

He had to make her understand. He was _desperate_ to make her understand.

"If I had known, if I had found the first reason to believe it was anyone other than _me_ in that godforsaken vision, I would have never left your side. I wouldn't have let you leave mine _._ _Jesus_ , Bella, do you have any idea what I'd have done to stop something like that from happening to you? I'd have probably kidnapped you again and never brought you back. I was half out of my mind. Just the thought of anybody hurting you that way, let alone _me_..."

His hands pulled her even closer. His voice was a raw, ragged whisper, completely undone.

"Sweetheart, the thought alone is enough to destroy me."

Her breath came out in a long, slow, shaky exhale. "Edward..." she whispered, shaking her head in denial.

"Please tell me you understand," he begged quietly, his eyes pleading with her. "Please tell me you understand why I left. Why I _had_ to leave."

But her head shook adamantly. "No," she whispered angrily, and it couldn't have hurt worse if she'd opened his chest and ripped his heart out. She reached up and furiously swiped away a stray tear from her cheek. "No. I don't."

His lips slowly parted, his heart breaking. His hands carefully loosened their grip on her, willing himself to find the strength to let her go when she inevitably demanded it of him. "Bella..." he pled.

But she reached out and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, twisting it up in her fingers, her expression furious. "How could you believe something like that, Edward? Oh my God! When Carlisle said you left because you thought you were a danger to me, I thought he meant my _blood,_ like usual, or...or having sex, or changing me, or whatever else you were always so worried about. But _this_? How could you not know? How could you believe for one second that you would _do_ something like that to me?"

"Bella," he attempted again, desperately, but she wasn't having it.

She pushed at him, trying to shrug off his hands, putting some space between them when he willingly released her and let himself be pushed back.

"You _wouldn't!"_ she reiterated. "Not ever. Don't you think I would have known that if you just _told_ me? How do you think I figured out he wasn't you in the first place, when I found the proof he had killed Lacey? I _know_ you, damn it! And you'd never hurt anybody like that! Especially not _me!_ "

She was so angry she was shaking, so furious she didn't even want him near her, but that didn't matter. The words she said felt like she had just reached into his chest and put his dead, broken heart back together.

Bella believed in his integrity, whether she was furious enough to slap him at the moment or not. And that was huge.

It was overwhelming.

"Bella, I know that, okay?" he explained, hands out to his sides. "I know that _me_ , in my own right mind, would never raise a hand to you. I knew it then. But we also knew there was a good chance someone else was involved. What if it was a vampire with the power to influence minds, to coerce me into attacking you? What if I could be _forced_ to hurt you, or even kill you? Do you think I would take a chance like that with you? _"_

She was still shaking, and not with fear. "Then why didn't you just tell me the _truth_?"

His heart sank in his chest, because he knew he _still_ wasn't being truthful with her — at least not about the future Alice still saw.

"I couldn't. I just...I couldn't. I can't even imagine trying to tell you something like that. And it wouldn't have mattered. I had to leave either way, and I was afraid to go near you even long enough to say goodbye. We didn't know the timing of when Alice's vision would happen, at least not back then."

He realized his mistake instantly — and so did Bella. She went still, her mouth dropping softly open. She studied him intently.

"Back then. So you figured it out at some point? You knew when it was going to happen?"

Her eyes widened with betrayal as the obvious implication of that sunk in...

"Oh my God...Edward..."

He heard the unspoken question as clearly as if he _could_ read her mind:

If he knew, why the hell wasn't he there to stop it?

He froze, his lips still parted, his body going perfectly still. In contrast, his mind raced, scrambling for what he could possibly tell her.

He had two choices, both equally awful: either let her keep believing he'd _known_ when her first attack was going to happen and that he'd failed to come to her rescue in time, which was both false and cruel; or admit that it still hadn't happened yet but he knew when it would, thereby hanging a deadline over her head that would only terrify her without reason — because he'd find a way to stop it, one way or the other.

That option was quite possibly worse.

But he didn't end up having to make that choice. Bella had been right. She _did_ know him. She read his expression perfectly.

She took a step farther back from him, her finger coming up to point at him accusingly. "There's something you're still not telling me. Something else."

His eyes closed in agony. How could he do this to her? How could he tell her her nightmare wasn't over?

"I'm only trying to protect you," he confessed hoarsely. "Let it go, Bella. Please. I'm asking you to let this go. I'm not going to let it happen."

"No. Look at me," she commanded, and he did so without question. She studied him closely. "What aren't you telling me, Edward? Has Alice seen something else?"

He took a slow deep breath, surrendering to the horrific inevitable. "Yes."

At least she touched him again, surging forward, her hands clutching at his shoulders. She was trying to be so brave, but he felt the way her fingers trembled with fright. And it was only about to get worse. "What is it? Edward, _please_!"

He shook his head, gritting his teeth, barely able to believe he was about to do this.

"The same thing she saw before, Albert attacking you as me. Bella, it...it still hasn't happened yet. I didn't know when he was going to go after you the first time, or that he even existed. I swear to you I didn't. We all still thought it was _me_ in the vision. But now we have some idea when it's supposed to happen."

She exhaled like he'd punched her in the gut — and he felt as guilty as if he had.

He stood watching her process the horror of it all, hating himself more by the moment.

"When?" she finally whispered, her eyes filling with tears, her chin going up bravely. "When will it happen? So I can try to...be prepared for it."

And that statement — that maddening, horrifying statement — that was just _it_ for him.

That was when the tightrope snapped beneath his feet, sending him plummeting into freefall.

It was when _he_ snapped _,_ right along with it.

Every bit of the pressure, the guilt, the worry, the anger, the _frustration_ of months on end feeling helpless — it all finally boiled over, and he simply couldn't take it for another second.

"Never, goddamnit!" he grated through clenched teeth, his voice rising. His hands found her waist, gripping harder than they should have as he hauled her closer. _"Never,_ because I'm not going to let it! Do you hear me, Bella? That bastard's not going to touch you again! Not now, not EVER. If me dying is the only thing that can stop it, I'll find a way around Alice and make it happen!"

Inhale. Exhale. Stay on the tightrope. Ease Bella's fears. Hide his own. Walk that goddamn, fucking line.

And he had just fallen off. _All_ the way off. He was scaring her to death.

Immediately, his hands were off her and he was across the room from her, only narrowly restraining the urge to put his fist right through the stone fireplace as he paced, his frustrated hands running through his hair.

"You _dying?"_ Bella called after him in a voice high-pitched with fear, like those were the only words out of his mouth she had even comprehended. Maybe they were. "Edward, what are you talking about? You're _scaring_ me."

And yeah, he knew that. And God help him, even that awful knowledge couldn't stop him. He'd hit his damn limit, not having dealt with any of his own emotions while he tried so desperately to deal with all of hers. And now, everything he'd internalized for far too long was spewing out, completely out of his control.

"What happened in the cabin?" he demanded, abruptly turning to face her but staying across the room. He was too intense, too demanding. His voice was just short of a growl. "Not knowing is _killing_ me. Do you understand that? When I find him...when I take him apart piece by piece...I need to know I've exacted vengeance for _all_ of it, everything he did to you! I _need_ that, Bella. I need the truth!"

She stared at him across the room like she didn't even know him.

"I told you what happened." Her voice was horrified, her eyes searching his face. "What is it _you_ think happened, Edward?" Her lip trembled like she was about to burst into tears, and he _still_ couldn't stop.

"I was there yesterday," he shot back, his fists clenched at his side — something she noticed and shrunk away from him a step. The fresh wave of self-loathing that caused only fueled his frustration. "I saw everything. I _smelled_ everything. I know you were both in that bed, and I know you never mentioned a bed to me once. What happened with him there, Bella? What are _you_ not telling _me_?"

* * *

Bella was reeling. In a few short minutes, Edward had gone from gentle and supportive to...to _this._

Was he accusing her of something?

Her mouth fell open softly, her eyes wide. She was at a complete loss. "Oh my God. Edward...I..."

But her response — and their argument — ended as abruptly as it had begun.

He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, head shooting up, his eyes getting that unfocused look they got when he was listening to something she couldn't hear.

His eyes snapped back into focus a few heartbeats later, locking on her wide ones for an all-too-brief second.

And then he was moving — right at her with a speed too fast for her eyes to focus.

She felt his tight grip on her waist as his arms locked around her, clutching her against him. His already stone-like muscles were so tightly coiled — like steel wires under tension — that she could feel the power thrumming through him. His eyes roved everywhere, from windows to doors, his already tight grip on her growing stronger as he angled them to shield her from every entranceway possible with his own body. An audible growl emanated from his chest — low, but as fierce as she'd ever heard.

His eyes were furious. His teeth were bared.

And she knew without question it wasn't directed at her.

"What is it?" she managed to gasp, utterly terrified, hands grasping and clawing at his shirt.

"Do not leave my side unless I tell you otherwise," he ordered tightly, not looking at her. He was intently focused on their surroundings. "The others are coming to help. I won't let go of you unless I absolutely have to fight him myself. You have my word, Bella. I won't let you go."

A high-pitched ringing started in her ears, her mind so terrified that the world moved in slow motion.

"Oh, God. Oh my God...he's here."

It wasn't a question. Edward answered it anyway, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"He's about to be."

The front door to the cabin slammed open in the next moment, and she screamed — a shrieking, throat-ravaging sound of utter terror. Her knees buckled, her hands covering her face as she fell into Edward's side.

She distantly heard his voice calling her name, his hands pulling her upward until her feet weren't even on the ground. His grip on her was almost painfully tight, his arms like steel bands around her.

There was a sudden lurch of movement, like he was taking her somewhere, but it ended as quickly as it started.

It sounded like his voice came from underwater as he continued saying...something.

It didn't matter what.

She just kept screaming.

* * *

"Bella... _Bella!_ Listen to me. That's just my family. Come on, Bella. _Damn it._ Jasper, help me calm her down! They're almost here. Emmett, guard that window! Bella, _look at me_."

Edward knelt against the interior wall of the master bedroom where he had immediately run with Bella, the most sheltered and defensible location in the house — something he'd made a note of the very first day he had brought her there with him alone to work. He held her clutched against his chest, watching as his family all converged in a protective semicircle around the two of them.

If he had to run with her, he had a good grip and he was ready. Even carrying Bella, his speed was formidable. He could outrun them if he had to. His thirst for vengeance he would absolutely satisfy, at some point, but he hadn't forgotten Carlisle's warning on the phone to keep his focus on Bella. Vengeance must necessarily come in a distant second to protecting his mate.

He was as concerned with her mental state, at the moment, as he was with her physical safety. She wasn't responding to him. At all.

And he could hardly blame her.

At the moment that Alice had had a vision of Albert and Victoria deciding to make a run onto the Cullen property, he had missed it at first. Because he hadn't been paying attention.

He'd been too busy destroying every bit of Bella's trust he'd worked so hard to earn.

He had, on the other hand, physically heard it when Alice yelled from the main house for everybody to get down to the cottage as fast as they could, shouting out a warning to him too. Bella's human ears didn't hear it — but his did.

He had almost immediately picked up the minds of Albert and Victoria coming into his range, moving fast, just after Alice's shout — which had sent him straight to Bella's side, everything else forgotten.

"Is it him?" Emmett snarled, his entire body coiled for a fight. Aside from Edward and Alice, none of the other Cullens knew what was going on. They had simply obeyed Alice's command without question.

"It's both of them," Edward replied, his tone clipped. His focus was still on Bella, limp in his arms but no longer screaming. She had the front of his shirt in a death grip, burying her face in it. "I've got you, Bella. I won't let them near you. Come on, sweetheart, please just look at me. God, I'm so sorry."

"I'm going after him," Emmett growled, and started for the door.

"No!" Alice screamed, and Edward's lips parted as his eyes locked with hers.

He knew exactly what she was experiencing. He could hear it for himself. _Feel_ it for himself.

Someone else had just come into his range outside, someone he glimpsed for only a millisecond — and then he went mentally blind and deaf.

He couldn't hear Alice anymore. He couldn't hear Albert and Victoria anymore, either.

He couldn't hear _anybody._

He clutched Bella a little tighter. "Emmett, stop!" he ordered. "Nobody leaves this room."

"There's seven of us and two of them," Emmett argued, cracking his knuckles. "This ends today!"

Edward's snarl was ferocious, despite the terrified girl in his arms. "You try to leave this room, and I'll fight you myself. Provoking us is what he _wants,_ damn it! I can hear him. Or I could a minute ago. Alice...do you feel that?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "Something's blocking me. It's like they all just disappeared. I can't see what they're about to do."

Carlisle hovered close to his son, who held tightly to his human mate. "Fill us all in, Edward. Quickly."

Edward growled once again, for good measure. "There's another one out there. A male. I heard him, just briefly, before they all...vanished. They're still close. But I can't hear them anymore."

"I saw him too," Alice said, deep in concentration. "Just for a split second, before I lost my sight. Edward, he's...I think he's a shield. But maybe not a very strong one. It's like it's...going in and out."

Edward had the same focused look on his face. He could find the weak spots too, catch a glimpse of a thought here and there, like a weak signal on an old television set, occasionally breaking through the static. Enough to know that Albert and Victoria, while still close, were no longer at a dead run for the cottage.

This was a test, he realized with clarity.

"No, not a weak shield," he mused quietly. "An inexperienced one. He doesn't quite have control over it — can't hold it steady."

His eyes locked with Alice, as they both broke through momentarily, Alice able to see the newcomer and Edward able to hear him. "A newborn," they said in unison.

His concentration evident on his face, Edward added to that, trying to pull as much as he could from the broken thoughts he could pull from all three of the outside intruders. "His name is Thomas," he murmured, eyes glassy. "Victoria created him in Seattle, very recently."

He listened more intently, shook his head when he caught another glimpse from Victoria. "No, actually, that's not quite it. Someone named Riley did it for her. Victoria's using him, _playing_ him. He...he loves her. He thinks she's his mate." He shook his head again. "I lost it. Keep trying, Alice. See if you can break through and see what they're planning. I don't think they plan to attack today, but they're here for a reason."

The semicircle of Cullens tightened up its formation.

"There's four of them now?" Jasper questioned sharply, and Edward didn't have to hear his mind to know he was already altering his battle strategies, adapting on the fly. It was just how Jasper approached things.

"At least four," Carlisle was the one to softly answer. "If this Thomas was created in Seattle by a vampire working for Victoria, that certainly explains what's been happening there. If Victoria is behind it all, there could be more nearby, also shielded, waiting for us to attack. Edward's right: we stay here for now, close to Bella."

"That's why my vision changed, why they're waiting until the winter," Alice whispered. "Oh my God. Edward..."

"She's creating an army before she comes after us," Jasper finished her sentence. "She must be letting this Riley make the decisions and do her dirty work for her, manipulating Alice's vision. Then they got lucky and created a shield."

"An army?" came a soft voice none of them had expected, and Edward's focus was quickly drawn down to Bella. At some point when he was focused on breaking through the shield, she had turned her head back out of his shirt and started paying attention. "What does that mean? Put me down, Edward."

He set her on her feet instantly, but he kept his arm protectively around her waist, his eyes fixed on her face. He didn't like the tired, unnatural calm he saw there — like Bella had given up, resigned herself to a fate he'd die to prevent.

"It means a fight," Emmett was the one to answer, eagerly, to Rosalie's disgusted scoff.

"I don't want any of you fighting an army for me," Bella said, still far too calm, especially considering the way she'd completely broken down minutes before.

"Edward...Carlisle, do you smell that?" Esme cut in abruptly, sniffing the air, before an exasperated Edward could argue the point. "What is that? It's getting closer fast."

Edward recognized the foul odor instantly, having sought it out the day before, but he had no time to make a warning. He caught a glimpse, breaking through the shield, of Albert's intentions in the split second before it happened — too late to do anything about it.

Albert was running in their direction at top speed.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and something was thrown into the room.

Something horrifying. Something that landed on the exposed subflooring with a sickening _thud,_ just a short distance from their feet.

Lacey Matthews' body.

Wrapped in the tattered remains of Bella's clothes and nothing else.

Bella's human eyes, Edward was sure, had caught only the most miniscule glimpse, but the abruptness of what happened was still enough to make her gasp.

Before she could focus enough to recognize her own destroyed clothes that had been torn from her body, now wrapped around the gruesome body of a dead woman, Edward swiftly cupped the back of her head and pulled her face into his chest, turning them both so that his body was between her and the macabre sight before them, blocking her view.

When she struggled against him, he held on firmly, stroking her hair to soften his actions. His other arm he wrapped around her waist, no less securely.

"No, Bella," he said gently. "You don't want to see this. Please trust me."

"Is it her?" she sobbed against his chest, going soft in his arms as she quit fighting him. He only held on tighter.

"Yes." The long dark hair was enough to tell him that, even if not for the overwhelmingly awful scent. The exact same odor he'd followed the day before, straight to the original shallow grave. It wasn't exactly forgettable, especially not in such close proximity.

The shield lifted, and he knew Albert and Victoria had already retreated. The test was over, apparently, and it had been successful. With the help of the shield, however imperfect, Edward's enemies had been able to hide their true intentions from him and Alice both until the very last second.

And the shield would only grow more powerful with experience.

"They're gone," he threw in the direction of his family, only the feel of Bella's trembling body in his arms holding him in place — and keeping his snarls at bay.

His rage was indescribable. Albert's very clear threat — and his hope to provoke Edward enough to make him chase them — had very, very nearly succeeded. If Bella wasn't holding on to him for dear life as it began to sink in exactly what had just happened, he'd have been right on their heels — and likely running right into an ambush, especially considering the shield could block his mindreading abilities, to some extent, and therefore his advantage in a fight.

"Somebody get her out of here," he said quietly to his family, with forced calmness. "Please."

"Get Bella's clothes," he heard Alice say to Carlisle, so quietly Bella wouldn't hear it. "Jazz and I will take care of the body."

Then she added, loud enough for Bella to hear, "Her family will get her back, Bella. I'll make sure the authorities find her today. I promise." Alice had heard every word Bella said to Edward about Lacey that first night she let him into her bed, Edward knew, and his sister's thoughts were deeply sympathetic. "We'll take good care of her."

* * *

The fact that Albert and Victoria had made such a bold and unexpected move, venturing onto the Cullen property — not to mention the existence of the shield — put an end to Edward's and Bella's blissful, carefree days working alone together in the cottage.

It just wasn't safe for her anymore, not if there was a chance Edward wouldn't be able to see danger coming, wouldn't have time to summon his family for backup.

His only clue that the shield was nearby would be that his ability to hear thoughts would suddenly disappear — a thing that didn't work on Bella anyway. He could hear his family's thoughts from the main house to the cottage, but it would be more noticeable when their thoughts disappeared if his family were in close proximity. So the safest thing was for them to all stay as close together as possible.

But on the other hand, it took about a day and a half for Edward and the rest of his family to realize that their work in the cottage had been the only thing keeping Bella going. She became increasingly depressed and withdrawn in the main house, only eating with a great deal of coaxing and barely responding to any of them, including Edward.

Especially Edward, actually.

He'd apologized more times than he could count for the way he'd yelled at her, even _cursed_ at her, something he never meant to do. He'd meant every word of his pleas for forgiveness, too, as evidenced by the fact that he'd completely dropped the topic they'd been arguing about. His own actions horrified him.

He got very, very little from her in response. She didn't exactly push him away, despite the multiple opportunities she had to do so, considering how very closely he'd attached himself to her side. She even let him touch her, continue to stay in the bed with her when she slept.

She just didn't engage with him very much. She had almost completely shut down on him.

Worst of all, he had no clue if Bella was so distant because she was simply angry or hurt with him, or if it had more to do with the terrifying future she believed she faced.

Her only two interests seemed to be sleeping, which she spent far more time than was normal doing, and obsessively watching the evening news on television. That was one thing she would wake up for.

She seemed somewhat interested in reports of the killings occurring in Seattle, now that she knew the truth of them. But that wasn't what she was watching for, and Edward knew it. That was just an army created for the purpose of helping kill _her_. Apparently not a big deal to Bella.

No. She was listening for anything possible about the body of Lacey Matthews being found. And it was driving Edward mad.

It took three days, but it finally came: a story on a semi-local romance novelist whose body had been found two days ago, just off the main highway, just outside of Forks — something, Edward saw in his sister's mind, that was intentional so that Charlie Swan wouldn't be involved in any way.

Lacey had just been identified that day. She had no immediate family. But friends and extended family were shocked to hear of her death, despite not hearing from her recently. Last they had known, she had gone off the grid to focus on her most recent novel. The fact that no one had heard from her was par for the course for her when she was deep in her writing process, apparently.

Investigators combing her cabin had found little to no DNA evidence of any kind, aside from a heap of belongings dumped in the woods, many miles from where her body had been found, some of which appeared to have been returned to the home.

It was a mystery what had happened to her, they concluded, although forensic exams did suggest she had been brutally raped.

That was the point where Bella started to squirm uncomfortably, tucking her legs up beneath her and wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered. Edward's arms ached to be the ones wrapped around her, but he didn't dare touch her, at the moment. He did move slightly closer to her on the couch, his focus far more intent on her than on the television set.

A local coffee shop owner was interviewed next — one who remembered Lacey coming in daily for coffee, up until several weeks before. She remembered her possibly striking up a conversation with an unfamiliar male who had never been in before.

The police sketch of that man — whom police would like to speak to — looked uncomfortably similar to Edward.

And that was the moment that Bella jumped up off the couch and ran for the bathroom, with Edward a cautious couple of steps behind her — willing to give her space but not let her out of his sight.

She slammed the door in his face, but it did nothing to hide the sounds of her retching and vomiting into the toilet until there was nothing left and she started dry-heaving.

He leaned his forehead against the door, swimming in frustration and helplessness, and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

One thing was for certain: after having her back in his arms again, even for such a short time, he wasn't willing to give her up. Not ever again.

* * *

After an agonizingly long night, that decision of what to do next was decided for him when the morning news carried yet another story on Lacey Matthews, while Bella was picking at her breakfast on the living room couch.

The TV was only on because she had insisted on it — the first words anybody had heard her utter since the night before.

She had slept soundly, at least. Carlisle had finally given in and prescribed something to help her sleep, all things considered. And she hadn't made a sound all night long, as Edward faithfully watched over her.

Nobody wanted a repeat of the night before. At the same time, nobody had the heart to turn her down when she wanted to eat breakfast in front of the TV, either. Because at least she was finally _eating._

The morning news reported that Lacey's remaining family and a couple of close friends had quickly organized a memorial service for her at a funeral home two towns over — the town where she lived when not staying in her cabin to write. It was open to the public, as she was somewhat well known in her home town, considering the success she'd had with her novels.

The service was going to be that very afternoon.

Bella immediately looked up and made eye contact with Edward, searching his face with a pleading expression that broke his heart — like she fully expected him to let her down. To deny her.

It was also practically the first time she'd really _looked_ at him willingly since what happened in their cottage.

"I gave you my word, Bella," he reminded her softly, without her saying a word. He overcame his nerves enough to reach out and take her hand in his own. She flinched but didn't pull away. "I told you I would take you, and I will. We can't go alone, of course. We'll take Emmett and Jasper, at the very least. But a promise is a promise. And I swear to you — I _swear_ that I'm never breaking another one."

Esme sat down on Bella's other side, putting an arm around her. "We'll all go," she stated warmly and decisively. "You and Edward can go inside, and we'll be outside nearby if you need us, sweetheart."

_I'll destroy them myself if they come near my daughter again_ , was the surprisingly fierce thought Edward heard in his mother's mind. His eyes closed against the surge of emotion he felt.

* * *

If Edward had held any misapprehensions that he was in any better emotional shape than Bella, they vanished when he realized how very anxious it made him to have her out of his sight for even the hour that she disappeared into Alice and Jasper's room with Alice that afternoon, getting ready for the funeral.

Once he was swiftly dressed and ready, waiting in the living room, he couldn't stay still. His eyes stayed glued on the stairs as he first paced and then eventually tried to sit on the couch with Jasper, who was waiting for Alice just like Edward was waiting for Bella. Only Jasper managed it with considerably greater levels of patience and sanity than Edward, despite having been kicked out of his own room so his mate could play Bella-Barbie.

The relentless waves of calm coming at him from Jasper were Edward's second clue that he was in a bad way. He was even making Jasper nervous.

"You'll all stay in groups of at least two?" he verified, for at least the third time, not even waiting for an answer before the steady stream of instructions continued.

"You can't leave one another's sight, or Albert could assume one of your identities. If Alice's vision disappears, that means the shield is close by. You have to let me know immediately. I'll get Bella out of there, but I need at least two of you tracking behind us, to make sure we're not followed."

Jasper fixed him with an exasperated look. "You have to relax, Edward. Bella reads you as easily as you read other people. If she sees you like this, it's only going to make her nervous and distract her from the funeral. She needs closure on this. Let her focus on Lacey Matthews today, and you focus on her. We'll have your backs."

Jasper was right. He knew it without question. But that knot of tension in his stomach wouldn't go away.

Not until about thirty seconds later, that is, when Bella and Alice started down the stairs arm-in-arm.

He rose nervously to his feet, his jaw dropping softly.

Alice had dressed her in an elegant but tasteful black dress, sleeveless, that loosely hugged her form and hit just above her knees. She had matched it with low black pumps. Bella's hair was softly curled but loose, and her makeup was understated but still enough to cover the last of her fading bruises.

She was a vision. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his very long life. And despite the tension between them, appropriate to the occasion or not, he was going to tell her so.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs, his heart probably written all over his face. His mouth was still partly hanging open as he held out a shaking hand to escort her off the stairs. She pulled her arm out of Alice's to take it with very little hesitation, her willing touch sending a far greater wave of calm through him than Jasper had managed, even at full power.

"Bella," he murmured, eyes drinking her in greedily as his hand closed carefully around hers. "My God. You're so very, very beautiful."

Not his most eloquent. The best he could manage at the moment.

Her gaze dropped to her shoes, but her cheeks stained pink and her heartrate increased, even as she scolded him. "We're not going to the prom, Edward."

"I know," he squeezed her hand gently, watching mesmerized as her gaze came back up to him. Much as Bella hated when Alice played Bella-Barbie, he had a feeling it might have actually been what she needed that day. She looked more confident than he'd seen her since he returned, pleased with his reaction and not doing the best job of hiding that fact.

He let his own smile peek through, equally pleased with her slightly dazzled reaction to _him_. "But it's true, nonetheless. I'm always honored to have you on my arm, no matter the occasion."

There. That was more what he had meant to say the first time. Far more befitting of a proper gentleman's reaction to the love-of-one's-life looking the way that his looked in that dress.

And it was more encouraging than he could put into words that his effusiveness made her blush as he gently but securely tucked her hand into his arm to escort her to his car.

Maybe his outburst at the cottage hadn't fully destroyed everything after all. Maybe Bella just needed some time to deal with everything.

And maybe so did he.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	14. Collapse

Chapter 14

From the moment Bella stepped out of his car at the funeral, Edward had exactly zero intention of breaking contact with her until she was safely back in it.

As soon as he found a parking spot, he sternly instructed her not to open her door until he could make his way around to open it for her, which he had to do at human speed since the parking lot was full. He offered his hand to help her from the car, his alert eyes scanning the area, then quickly pulled her in against his side so that he could wrap an arm around her waist like an unbreakable steel band.

He'd done his best not to frighten her about the danger of it all, venturing out into a public, crowded place where Albert could assume the identity of anyone he chose, his presence even easier to conceal if the shield was present.

Further complicating matters, while that police sketch of Edward's face on the news had not been completely accurate, it had also not been completely _inaccurate_. Maybe a slightly older version of him, which made sense, given Lacey's age. But the features were the same. If someone there recognized him in it, the ensuing scene would only increase the risk to Bella.

There were, of course, measures his family was well-practiced in using to slightly alter appearance, hairstyle, make themselves look younger — and he'd used them all that day. But the danger still existed.

He kept as many of those concerns to himself as possible. He didn't want Bella to think he begrudged her this trip in any way. Or, God forbid, get it back into her head that she was a burden to him.

No, he _wanted_ to do this now — if only because it was a chance to finally make a promise to her and then keep it. Those chances had been few and far between lately, ever since Bella shattered his heart soon after his return by asking him not to make promises to her anymore. She didn't trust him to keep them, apparently. And while he _hated_ that idea, he couldn't say he hadn't given her valid reason by abruptly leaving her with no explanation.

So he had no intention of blowing this precious opportunity to prove himself.

But the truth was that it was all very damn risky, and he knew it. So did his family, who had driven in cars ahead of and behind them and were now spreading out to hide in various locations around the exterior of the funeral home and keep watch.

His desire to keep from scaring her notwithstanding, Edward was very plain with his mate, on the drive over, that she was not to try to leave his side for any reason — and also that it was kind of a moot point, because he had no intention of giving her the chance anyway.

He was very clear about exactly how physically assertive and domineering he was prepared to be in ensuring that she didn't stray from the safety of his reach, more blunt than he would usually be with her.

He didn't relish sounding like a tyrant. But given the current dynamics of their relationship and Bella's lingering apprehension around him, he'd just prefer for her to know what to expect from him _before_ it happened. His number one priority was going to be her safety and security, and he was going to be fairly intense about that — but he hated the idea of somehow triggering her in the process.

Her eyes went wide at the uncommon ring of authority in his tone — he both looked and sounded like a vampire at the moment, no doubt — but he was grateful that she didn't argue the point. It must have been very evident that he was serious.

And nervous.

* * *

Bella kept slipping, despite her best efforts. Kept forgetting her resolve to not let Edward inside those protective walls she'd built up around herself the past few days, ever since their fight in the cottage.

Too much had happened that day. From the terrifying news that Alice still saw her being attacked by Edward's lookalike, to the body of Lacey Matthews being literally dumped right at her feet, to the suspicions Edward had shouted and growled at her, she had simply been dealt one blow too many. And she had dealt with none of it yet. She _couldn't._

She was reeling. Shell-shocked.

She'd been distant with Edward ever since, both emotionally and physically, and she knew it.

But not for the reasons Edward believed.

She knew how horrible he felt about the way he'd raised his voice to her, the thinly veiled accusations he'd thrown at her, even the fact that he'd used what he considered to be 'foul language' with her.

He felt so guilty that he completely stopped pushing her to tell him the rest of what happened, to her great relief. He also apologized constantly, every time he saw her shying away from his invitations to hold her, resisting his presence. He believed his 'ungentlemanly' actions to be the reason for her distance.

He was wrong. She didn't care about any of that...at least not really.

Out of multiple horrifying revelations that day, one had hit her the hardest. All she had heard when he yelled at her — all that really had time to sink in before the arrival of Albert and Victoria — was Edward's intention to leave her again.

That wasn't the way he put it, of course. His exact words had been that if him dying was the only way to stop Albert from abducting her again, then he would find a way to kill himself.

He meant every single terrifying word, she'd realized with horror. There was no doubt of it.

And her world stopped turning.

Edward's original plan had been bad enough, the one where he left her alone for seven months without telling her why.

Now his backup plan was to die.

And just like his previous plan, he hadn't planned on telling her about this one before it happened, either. That much was clear: he was still concealing things from her, in the name of "protecting" her. If his awful intentions hadn't come out in their heated discussion, she would never have found out until too late.

He would have just left her, yet again, with no warning — forever this time.

It was a more devastating blow than Edward probably realized. She had just been starting to trust him with her heart again, after seeing his patient devotion to her every day in the little cottage. She'd been ready to completely give him her heart again, to kiss him, cling to him, make him her safe place.

But with that one sentence, he'd demolished that fledgling trust.

The truth had hit her square in the gut like he'd punched her, knocking all the wind out of her lungs.

Despite every promise he'd made since his return, she couldn't believe a single word he said. He would still leave her, if he thought it the best way to protect her. Whether it was death or taking off to another country, he would just _leave_ her.

And she knew, from personal experience the past seven months, exactly what that would do to her when it happened.

Not if. When.

Because she also knew from personal experience that she wouldn't be given a say in the matter.

It was the only reason she hadn't yet thrown herself at him and begged and pleaded with him to change his mind, to promise her he wouldn't intentionally get himself killed, no matter what.

He wouldn't listen. He would tell her no. He would go on and on about how she was more important than him and that protecting her was his job.

And she'd never, never forgive him for it.

So she retreated from him, instead. Pulled away from him. It was the only way to gain some small modicum of control over the situation...over _any_ situation. She was tired of being powerless, of everything being done _to_ her.

If she was going to lose him either way, it would be easier if she didn't cling to him in the days before it happened. It would be easier if she at least had control over _herself_ , if she didn't allow her heart to rule her head. Certainly, nothing else was under her control anymore, not since the moment Edward left for Brazil — not since the moment he had chosen to 'protect' her by destroying her.

She couldn't quite bring herself to push him completely away. So long as he was willing to stay with her, she _needed_ him there. He still stayed in her bed with her. He was at her side every moment.

But she ruthlessly refused to let herself reach out to _him._ She was traumatized, spinning out of control, desperate to protect herself. It felt like she was walking underwater.

Despite her determination to keep him at arm's length, it still took every ounce of strength she had to behave so indifferently to him, to resist his sweetness, his protectiveness, his fully undivided _focus_ he kept so unswervingly on her.

She was hurting her own self as much as she was hurting him.

The only way she could keep it up was by intentionally reminding herself, every time she looked at him and saw the mingled hurt and worry in his eyes, of exactly what he had done to her; the hurt he had inflicted by taking away her choice and leaving her the first time.

And, of course, the fact that he saw no problem with doing that to her again — with making his death _her_ fault.

She stoked the anger, the frustration.

She ruthlessly pushed down the desire to throw her arms around him and beg him to stay, beg him not to give his life to "save" her, when he would only be destroying her.

It wasn't like he would listen to her anyway, she told herself bitterly.

That wasn't completely fair to him, and some part of her was even aware of it. But she needed her anger or she would fold instantly.

It had been working, too, right up until his jaw went slack and his eyes went soft when she walked down the stairs after Alice helped her get ready for the funeral. Then her traitorous heart completely flipped over in her chest.

He'd fixed his hair differently, done something she couldn't quite identify to alter his appearance. He looked younger, somehow. Fresh-faced and virile. He wore black slacks and shiny black dress shoes, topped with a white dress shirt, the sleeves temporarily rolled partway up his well-muscled forearms.

He was breathtaking. Just achingly, fiercely beautiful. Was her jaw hanging open? She wasn't entirely sure.

She did know _his_ was. And she knew she liked it, being the cause of that.

Her heart righted itself in her chest, only to promptly skip a beat when one of those strong arms reached out for her to help her down from the stairs. Whatever he had done differently, it was enough difference that her subconscious didn't automatically correlate him with Albert. And it made her heart race at his touch, at the way he _looked_ at her.

Those walls she'd put up around her heart had shuddered and nearly collapsed, especially when he took her hand in his, eyes drinking her in greedily, and told her how beautiful she was.

Until she remembered on the way to the car that he'd never intended to stay with her, and her heart sank all over again.

She wouldn't slip again.

* * *

The two of them together made a striking couple, attracting more attention than Edward would have liked as they made their way into the small chapel inside the funeral home. He led Bella to a seat near the back — one strategically located, with equal access to a couple different exits, though he was sure Bella didn't pick up on that fact.

He was used to being the focus of female attention, with his enhanced good looks that came with the territory of being a vampire. He barely noticed it anymore.

But Alice had outdone herself in her bid to make Bella feel pretty and confident that day — probably because Alice desperately wanted to do something to help her too. Perhaps she had overdone it. Bella attracted at least as much attention as he did.

More than one man's eyes ran up and down her approvingly as they entered the chapel. And one of them, Bella caught in the act. She didn't mention it, but Edward felt the way she tensed up against him, recoiling deeper into his side.

The arm he wrapped snugly around her shoulders the moment they sat down had a dual purpose — partly protective, partly possessive.

"It's not him," he leaned down to quietly whisper in her ear. "That guy's human. And he's not getting anywhere near you, regardless."

Under normal circumstances, he'd have been thrilled to feel Bella scoot closer into his side, tugging his arm more snugly around her and threading her fingers tightly through his. He'd have basked in satisfaction that he made her feel safe.

But sitting in that chapel and seeing the way her eyes still kept nervously going back toward the man who had ogled her — the one she had caught, anyway — it just made his venom boil.

If not for the fact he would have to let go of her to rip that man's head off, he would have been seriously considering it.

* * *

She slipped again.

She didn't mean to cling to Edward the way she did, during Lacey's memorial service. She had intended to maintain that cold distance she'd established, no matter how much it hurt them both.

But Lacey's funeral had knocked several new holes in her walls.

It started when her heart raced with an unexpected fear when she caught sight of a stranger's eyes raking up and down her body. A sickening dread shot through her, a terror of being hurt again.

She was being ridiculous, she chastised herself. The man was almost certainly harmless. Her brain understood that. But she hadn't been able to get close enough to Edward, to hold onto him tightly enough. It'd been all she could manage not to scramble into his lap where she would be safe.

She'd kept herself at bay by reminding herself, yet again, of his plans and the way he'd _lied_ to her. She let the hurt wrap around her like a blanket, let it fortify her walls.

Then the memorial service started, and she was sucker punched with a dose of cold, hard understanding; coming face to face with the sobering reality of death.

Of what it all really _meant_ , this thing that had made her so very angry with him.

Edward could die. He could _die_ , and he would be gone forever.

She understood with clarity, in that moment, exactly what it would be like to face the rest of her life without him. She had only to look at the crying family on the front row.

And it took her breath away.

Her walls started to collapse. Her tears flowed the entire service, but not for Lacey Matthews. If that made her a horrible person, she didn't care. Every tear that she shed had been for Edward. She grabbed his hand and held onto him with a death grip.

She desperately wanted to be alone with him. She was prepared to beg, to drop down to her knees and plead with him to just _stay_ with her. Even if it meant Albert got her. Even if it meant she was the one to die.

_Just please don't leave me._

She would have said those words, without question, if her entire world hadn't been flipped on its head again only moments after the funeral ended.

* * *

When the service was over, Edward was far more focused on Bella than he should have been as they exited the chapel into the funeral home's lobby.

He should have been scanning the minds around him, more bodyguard than mate or even boyfriend. But Bella had quietly cried from almost the moment the service began, and it had him distracted.

He hated to see her cry...even when she buried her face into his shoulder to do it, a move that nearly made his heart explode because she was finally turning _to_ him for comfort again, rather than keeping him at arm's length the way she had been doing since he yelled at her in the cottage.

His focus had remained unswervingly on her ever since her first tear fell. As they walked into the lobby afterward, his only thoughts were for the feel of her small, fragile fingers laced tightly through his strong ones as he led her by the hand. He'd have felt safer having an arm all the way around her, but she had grabbed onto his hand during the service and resisted his effort to let go when they stood. She seemed more content being able to hold onto him, too, and he was fixated on the why of it.

Did Bella still question his feelings for her? Was that why she had been pushing him away? Most importantly, what could he do to fix it?

Lost in the worries that had plagued him day and night for days, he was blindsided by the angry woman who seemingly came out of nowhere, glaring at him with livid eyes and pointing an accusing finger in his face.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here. And bringing a _date_ ," the woman berated him as she approached, turning her disgusted eyes on Bella like something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

He still had a firm grip on Bella's hand, so Edward stiffened his arm and pushed it backward, pulling her steps up short to keep her back. Smoothly, he took a half step forward at the same time, angling his body so he was between Bella and this aggressive woman.

He recognized her, having scanned every single face and mind present for any sign of danger — or recognition. She had walked in with the family at the beginning of the service, sitting on the very front row, and had not noticed him until now. She had to be family or a very close friend of the deceased. Judging by the pictures he'd seen of Lacey Matthews, she was close to the same age, mid-twenties.

That was all he had. At the moment, her thoughts radiated nothing but undefined hatred for him.

"I'm sorry," he said with cold, intimidating politeness. "Have we met?"

"I'm Lacey's cousin, Karen Matthews," the woman spat. "Or I _was_ her cousin. I know who you are. You're Edward Collins. She told me all about you. Texted me a picture of your first date."

He heard Bella's shocked gasp, and he pried his hand loose to put his arm around her waist and keep a better hold on her while his attention was so divided. He gave her a gentle squeeze, hoping she would take that as a cue to let him do the talking.

"Yes, of course. Do you still have that picture?" he asked, so charmingly that it threw the angry woman off-mission. He smiled warmly, letting his eyes intentionally draw her in — luring his prey, as he would call it. Bella used to refer to it as 'dazzling', so he hoped that she wouldn't object to his using it on another woman, so long as he only did it for Bella's protection. "I would very much like to see that, if you don't mind," he all but purred.

Bella noticed it, all right, especially when the woman became so flustered she could barely fumble her phone out of her purse and pull up the requested picture. He could feel Bella's eyes on his face, her body beginning to insistently pull away from him.

Exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. He grit his teeth and tightened his hold, grateful he'd at least had the foresight to give her fair warning about this in the car.

Because he wasn't going to be letting go.

"May I see that?" he coaxed, when the woman held the phone up to show him the text message. Still flustered, she thrust the phone into his extended hand, the one he didn't have firmly wrapped around Bella.

He couldn't even imagine what this must be dredging up for his mate, given the doubts she'd already endured about him the night she was abducted. She had told him herself that she had questioned whether he spent those seven months away from her in the arms of another woman.

Her imagination had been vivid enough on its own, he knew already. She didn't really need graphic, pictorial evidence.

The happy, smiling face of Lacey Matthews stared back at him when he tapped on the phone screen to enlarge the picture, but that wasn't what drew his attention — or Bella's, who was craning her neck toward the phone, determined to see.

What drew both of their undivided attention was the man with his arms wrapped around Lacey's waist from behind, his lips planted on her cheek, with his cold, gold-colored eyes turned toward the camera.

Edward's own eyes. His lips. His arms. Him. Or at least an identical copy.

Albert hadn't just raped and killed Lacey Matthews, it was clear now. He'd romanced her first. And he'd done so in Edward's body. With Edward's own face. Using his name, which had thankfully been misheard by Lacey's cousin — Collins, rather than Cullen.

And on top of all that, Albert had left damning evidence against him, evidence Edward held right in the palm of his hand.

He wasn't the only one disturbed by the picture.

"Please...I'm going to be sick," he heard the strangled voice from beside him, as Bella continued desperately pulling against his restraining arm, her hand over her mouth.

Frustration flooded him. He couldn't force her to embarrass herself in front of the entire Matthews family. He just couldn't. Reluctantly, he let her go, eyes tracking her the few steps to the ladies' bathroom they had thankfully been standing near when the woman approached them. He heard no other minds inside the bathroom, so he restrained his urge to immediately follow.

It pissed him off that he had to break his promise not to let go of her. It pissed him off even more that he couldn't be there for her, make some attempt at damage control before she could push him even farther away.

But if he didn't take care of the evidence first, there was a very real danger that his family could end up either having to leave Forks or go into hiding — and for the first time, he couldn't say with certainty that he believed Bella would be willing to go with him.

"Have you forwarded this to anyone, Karen?" he asked, drawing Karen Matthews' attention away from Bella and back to himself. He leaned closer and gave her his best smile, and the woman forgot Bella's seemingly odd behavior instantly. She forgot her own name.

By the time she got herself together enough to answer him, Edward had already deleted the entire text thread and quickly scanned through her photo gallery to ensure she hadn't saved the picture to her phone. And fortunately, she verified — both verbally and mentally — that she hadn't sent it to anyone else, including the police. She had forgotten all about it until she saw him there, too preoccupied with funeral planning after she received news of her cousin's death.

To buy himself a little time before Karen discovered what he had done, Edward covertly powered her phone down before handing it back to her, once again drawing her in with his eyes and enticing her to believe him.

"Thank you for showing me that. I hope you don't mind that I forwarded it to myself. When Lacey broke off contact, I assumed she just didn't want to see me anymore. I never dreamed something had happened to her, until I saw it on the news. I'm so sorry I never got the chance to know her better."

Karen, he was fairly certain, was eating out of his hand by the time he finished expressing his condolences and excused himself.

Her attention immediately turned to her phone, hoping to find this hot guy's number, since he had supposedly forwarded the picture to himself. She wasn't looking at him, too busy trying to figure out why her phone wasn't responding.

Looking around to make sure he wouldn't be noticed by anyone else, either, he quickly slipped into the women's bathroom and locked the door behind him. He was intent on getting Bella out of there fast, even if he had to take her right out the bathroom window to accomplish it.

* * *

Bella stared into the mirror in the bathroom, gripping the edges of the counter with white knuckles, trying to get her breathing under control.

The funeral home, in front of the grieving Matthews family, was definitely not the place for a flashback. But just for a moment there, she'd been right back in that cabin with Albert, drowning in suspicions that Edward had left her for Lacey Matthews and then killed her — and that she herself was next.

It was jarring, to say the least, especially with his strong arm wrapped around her like a shackle, preventing her from putting some distance between them. Panic had welled up in her like a living thing.

But he'd warned her ahead of time of his intentions not to release her for any reason, so she was able to fight the fear back, fight to stay grounded. She even managed to retain the presence of mind to convince Edward to let her run for the bathroom — which he relented and did, ever so reluctantly.

She tried not to feel guilty about the fact that she'd lied to him that she was going to be sick. If he hadn't given her some space _right then_ , it could have easily become the truth.

It also reminded her far too much of that night in the cabin, the way she'd lied to Albert that she needed to sleep, just so that she could escape his presence for a while.

Once the bathroom door closed reassuringly behind her, she splashed water on her face at the sink and took deep breaths until the urge to slip out that bathroom door, try to sneak past Edward while he was distracted, and then escape out the back door of the funeral home finally passed.

The desperate desire to just get away and run from _all_ of her problems, including Edward, overwhelmed her. She might have even tried it, despite the entire Cullen family outside keeping watch, if not for Edward's explicit warnings in the car that if she took off on him at the funeral, he'd have no choice but to physically put a stop to it — regardless of her reasons.

The thought made her shudder. She didn't want to do that...to either of them. She was relatively certain she'd done enough damage to them both already.

She'd certainly done enough damage to the Matthews family, she believed — by being the one to live. She'd seen that clearly enough during the funeral.

Maybe if she'd been the one to die, all those people wouldn't be there crying.

Maybe Edward's family wouldn't have to fight an army.

Maybe Edward wouldn't have to die to save her.

Maybe...maybe it wasn't too late.

* * *

He found her standing in front of the sink, her hands spread wide on the countertop as she leaned forward with her head down, staring at the cool surface between her hands.

She didn't react in any way to his sudden presence.

Cautiously, he came up behind her, placed his hand on the small of her back. "We need to go, love. Are you all right now?"

He already knew she hadn't been sick. He'd have heard it...and smelled it. Nonetheless, he tried to quell the suspicion that Bella might have lied to escape him. It wasn't like he could put voice to it anyway, not considering the damage he believed he'd already done to their relationship the last time he started spouting suspicions.

Her breath came out in a trembly, exhausted sigh. "No. I'm tired of all this, Edward. I'm so _tired_ of it."

He understood that much very well, or at least he thought he did. "I know," he agreed, his voice gritty with self-loathing. This was all his fault, he berated himself, _all_ of it. "I know you are, and I'm so sorry."

"Sometimes I think..." she trailed off, shaking her head with a bitter scoff..

He had no way of knowing what she was about to say, but alarm bells went off in his head at the way she said it.

They needed to be leaving. But this was more than she had spoken to him at one time since he exploded in their cottage, and something told him it was important.

"You think what?" he encouraged gently. "Talk to me, Bella. Please."

To his surprise, she looked up into the mirror, looking straight at him in it. She shrugged hopelessly. "I think maybe everybody would be better off if it was _me_ he had killed — not her."

Survivor's guilt. He understood that statement for what it was immediately — knew he should probably have seen it coming, especially with the funeral. Albert had known exactly what he was doing, throwing that body down at Bella's feet. He'd wanted her to draw parallels. And of course, she had.

Edward's intellectual understanding of all that didn't lessen his emotional reaction to hearing Bella say such things.

Of its own volition, his free hand came up to close around one of her upper arms, as the hand on her back slid around her waist to her stomach. He needed a hold on her, like he feared she might simply disappear.

" _I_ wouldn't be better off. You're my mate, Bella. That bond is unbreakable. I can't live without you now. I don't even want to. If he had killed you, I wouldn't have been far behind you."

She noticeably flinched, and her eyes filled up with tears. The anger in her voice was what threw him off, confused him.

"Maybe you don't care if _you_ live or die, but what about your family? They're all in danger because of me now, too. I hear you all talking sometimes, at least enough to know you're planning to go up against an army. An _army_ of vampires, Edward. Some of them could be killed. _You_ might die. And for what? For me? I'm not worth it."

"You're worth everything," was his fierce and instant answer, his eyes boring into hers in the mirror. He pulled her backward, more closely against him, until her back was molded to his chest. He released her arm and slipped his other hand around her waist, encircling her in his arms and dropping his chin to her shoulder. He held her gaze in the mirror. "Do you understand how serious I am about this? You are my world, Bella. There's nothing I won't do to protect you."

Holding her as he did, he felt it when her breath hitched — and she shuddered.

"That's what scares me. I don't want to live without you either, but you keep not giving me a choice." She drew a shuddery breath that had his arms tightening around her. "I can't — I just can't do this anymore, Edward."

That last sentence sucked every bit of the air out of his lungs.

She couldn't do what? Cope with what was going on, the danger she faced?

Or be with him?

An icy finger of pure panic wrapped around his heart.

"Bella...if this is about the way I spoke to you in the cottage..."

But she didn't want to go there. She cut him off quickly.

"It's not. Please, don't start apologizing again. It's just...I just..." She gave up and sighed. "It's not that."

He had known since the moment he met her that he couldn't read her thoughts. He still tried again anyway, because he desperately needed to understand what was happening in that moment.

Her mind was as frustratingly silent as ever. His desperation grew.

"It wasn't me in that picture just now," he tried next, remembering that the moment she'd tried to pull away from him in the lobby was when Karen Matthews identified him as the man dating Lacey. "You do know that, don't you? I was in Brazil, just like I told you. Alice could confirm that for you, if you like. And I thought of only you, every single moment I was there."

She sighed hard, equally frustrated, and shrugged out of his embrace to turn and face him. He let her go, helplessly, trying with desperation to read her expression. She didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I don't want to do this right now," she shut him down. "Not here."

She didn't want to do _what_ right now? His mind was blind with terror.

"Lets just go, okay?" she pled. "Let's just go...back."

What probably chilled him as much as anything was the way she paused and searched for that word 'back' to describe returning to his house with him — like she wanted any word other than 'home'.

* * *

It was a very long and quiet car ride back to the Cullen house. He looked at her far more than he did the road.

She never once looked back at him, her head laid back against the seat, staring out her window. Away from him.

He carefully took her hand in his and then didn't let go of it. It was all he could do to keep his grip loose enough. She didn't fight him on it. She didn't grip his hand in return, either.

It felt like she was slipping right through his fingers, with very little warning, and he didn't have the first damn clue how to stop it. He wasn't even completely sure on the _why._

A fresh wave of terror shot through him. Was he going to lose her because of his angry words, after all? After everything they'd already made it through together, was that one mistake going to be the end?

Did she honestly believe he was even capable of letting her go? _Was_ he?

He certainly wouldn't leave her unprotected, regardless. That went without saying.

But he wanted so much more than that. He _needed_ more than that.

His heart ached to have her love him the way he loved her. To need him as desperately as he needed her.

Had Bella stopped loving him?

That question ate him alive the entire drive.

When he killed the engine inside the garage at his parents' house, his eyes were on her. She immediately reached her free hand toward the door handle, without even glancing at him, her other hand starting to slip from his.

"Tell me what I can do." The quiet words shot out of him in a rush, eyes going to her hand he still held in his, around which he had just tightened his grasp to prevent her exit. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it, Bella. I'll make it right. I swear to you I will."

Her head turned in his direction, at least, but her gaze also went to her hand in his, rather than to his face. "No, you won't," she whispered, one bare shoulder bobbing in the slightest shrug. "You've already made up your mind."

He stared at her, letting the brutal sting of her words wash over him, doubling his confusion.

She didn't believe he'd do whatever it took to fix the problem between them? Did she know him at all? He was willing to die for her, for God's sake. What was going on inside his mate's head, and why in the name of everything he held dear could he not just read her thoughts himself?

Things were about to get worse, too.

He hadn't really been paying attention to his family as they also parked their cars, quietly slipping into the house to give him privacy for a conversation they could hear all too painfully well. So he was surprised when Esme approached his window before he could frame a response, her cell phone in her hand, her eyes apologetic.

His guts clenched when he read her thoughts, saw the message she was coming to give them.

Charlie Swan was on the phone. And he wanted his daughter home.

Esme had kept in close contact with Bella's father since she had come to stay with them, continually assuring Charlie that they were delighted to have Bella stay with Alice for the duration of the repairs to his home.

Charlie still had no idea Edward was back in town, although Edward's parents had done everything possible to ease the way for him on that one, too. Carlisle and Esme had visited Charlie shortly after Edward originally left. Carlisle had taken advantage of the common town belief that the Cullen 'children' were all fostered or adopted to vaguely imply that there was some legal or emergency issue with Edward's birth family — that that was the reason for his hasty departure and cutting of ties from Forks. Edward hadn't had a choice, Carlisle claimed. He'd been just vague and apologetic enough to be believable.

Charlie would likely still resent Edward for the pain Bella had gone through in his absence. But he wouldn't outright hate him, Carlisle and Esme had hoped, were he ever able to return.

But Charlie, as Esme was on her way over to tell Bella, had now become nervous after hearing news reports about the murder of a girl who looked so much like Bella, Lacey Matthews, found just outside of Forks. He wanted his daughter home where she'd be "safe". He wanted it enough that he'd pulled a few political strings to get an inspection and certificate of occupancy prematurely issued for the nearly completed repair work.

He wanted her to come home the very next day, after school, when he would be moving back in from Billy's.

Esme tapped lightly on Edward's window, which he reluctantly rolled down. She relayed the message to Bella and then passed her the phone through Edward, so that she could speak to her father as she had been doing at least once every couple days.

Bella pulled her hand out of Edward's to take the phone. The absence of her touch, when he was already so terrified of losing her, was literally painful.

His eyes stayed fixed on the steering wheel as Bella talked to Charlie, agreeing to come home after school the next day. But his fingers hovered by the ignition switch as he fought a fierce battle with his inner monster.

Gritting his teeth, he willed himself not to jerk the phone out of her hand, fling it out the window, and turn that key. The temptation to just take off with his mate and _drive_ , to spirit her away to some secure location and just _keep_ her there, where he knew he could protect her — and maybe even find his opportunity to win back her heart — was overwhelming.

He could take her to Isle Esme, he reasoned. She might even be happy there, once she accepted his reasons for kidnapping her again. Or if not Isle Esme, anywhere else that Albert — and Charlie...and Jacob — would never find her.

His fingers closed around the key with determination.

And then they retreated.

It wasn't so much the kidnapping part that stayed his hand, honestly. That part made perfect sense to his vampire's deep-seated terror of losing its mate. He'd kidnapped her before and would do it again, before he'd allow her to come to harm.

No, that wasn't the part he took issue with. It was more the worry that her safety might not be his only motivation — that he might have selfish reasons for wanting to do so, reasons that centered more around keeping her _his_ at any cost than keeping her _safe_ at any cost.

What was it Bella had said in the restroom at the funeral home? Something about him repeatedly not giving her a choice?

Maybe she had a valid point about that. Maybe that was among his failings he needed to correct.

Bella's trembling hand reached out, handing Esme's phone back to him, and it abruptly pulled him from his musing. Her conversation had been short, as always. Charlie wasn't really much for long phone conversations, and truthfully, neither was Bella. Edward mutely took the phone from her hand and passed it back to Esme.

His mother, having read the room and the tension in it, laid a hand on his shoulder before she quickly left.

"We'll be inside if either of you need us. I'm going to make Bella something to eat. Take your time."

Panic recaptured Edward fully in its grasp, despite his having battled down the initial impulse to take Bella and flee the country.

Charlie's order for her to return home was something he had already dreaded, from the very beginning, but it couldn't happen now — not when Bella would already barely look at him.

How was he going to protect her?

If she went home, she would also have to return to school, a building full of people Albert could easily imitate to try to lure her away if she was out of his sight for even one split second — like when she was in any of her classes that they didn't have together. With the existence of the shield, who had only to get close enough to keep him from hearing what was happening, Edward could be rendered useless if Bella wasn't directly within his reach.

Then there was Jacob Black, who had shown back up at the Cullen house the day after Carlisle got Sam to evict him. He'd wanted to check on Bella. Fortunately, Edward and Bella had been in the cottage when Jacob arrived, and she still didn't know what had happened or that he was ever there.

Jacob had reacted in a hostile fashion to her absence, especially combined with Edward's. That had given Carlisle all the ammunition he needed to make another phone call to Sam, one that hinted at a violation of the treaty. Jacob had therefore been ordered by his alpha not to return to Cullen property for any reason, and that had taken care of that.

Phone calls and even a couple of letters from the mutt had been easy enough for Edward to simply keep Bella unaware of. So Jacob hadn't been an issue since the day he left.

That was going to change the moment Bella returned home, Edward was certain. Sam certainly wouldn't order Jacob not to approach the Swan home, where he was most welcome in Charlie's opinion...and Bella's.

Neither that welcome nor his own newfound realization that Bella wanted a say in things was enough to shake Edward's resolve to keep her away from Jacob Black, regardless of what she thought she wanted. The risk was too great — in a few ways.

He'd hoped their relationship would be on more solid terms before he was forced to take that stand. But he was out of time.

He turned to look at Bella in the seat beside him, needing to say so many different things that he didn't even know where to start. Every bit of it stuck in his throat.

She dropped her gaze immediately, reaching for the door handle, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm, um... going to go start getting my things together."

"You'll still be safe when you go home, Bella," was all that he managed to get out, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll make sure of it."

He thought she was going to stay, when she froze for a moment. He really did.

But then she shuddered, just like she had earlier when he told her he'd do anything to protect her, like those words terrified her — and he didn't know why.

"I know you will," she replied softly. The hurt in her voice nearly broke him.

She got out of his car and walked inside without a backward glance.

* * *

Bella talked Carlisle into a sleeping pill that night — her last night staying in the Cullen home, in Edward's room...with Edward.

Only one, Carlisle had emphasized, and it was the last one, since she would no longer be at their house where he could closely monitor her. She accepted his terms and gulped it down gratefully, seeking escape.

It didn't help much. She was still restless late into the night.

At least some of that had to do with the fact that she'd declined Edward's offer to hold her in his arms as she tried to go to sleep that night. Even when she could clearly see how desperately he wanted to do so.

The last thing she saw before she rolled over on her side with her back to him was the hurt and fear in his eyes.

She felt those same things. She just didn't dare risk letting him past the protective walls she'd spent days building around herself to keep him out.

Holding onto him would only make it worse, when he inevitably left her again.

* * *

She awoke with a gasp and a cold chill.

The dream she'd been having was simple, not even rising to the level of what one could accurately label a nightmare.

It was terrifying, all the same.

No one had tried to hurt her. No one had even threatened her.

It had just been her, walking through the crowded halls at school, alone. Without Edward.

Walking to her locker. To the cafeteria. To the parking lot. Again without Edward.

Driving home in her truck, making dinner for Charlie, and going to bed alone.

Without Edward.

Exactly what she had done for seven months, when he was gone.

Exactly what she would be doing again, if Edward followed through on his angry promise at the cottage that he was going to die, if all else failed, to prevent Albert from going after her again.

She awoke startled, filled with the overpowering terror of being alone. It pressed down on her, suffocating her, drowning her.

But she wasn't alone. At least not yet.

"Bella? What is it, sweetheart?" came a soft and gentle voice from behind and slightly above her.

She quickly rolled from her side onto her back to find Edward looking down at her with concern. He had been lying on his back close beside her, apparently, but was now propped up on an elbow on his side, looking down at her, his brow wrinkled up with worry.

It was so real, that dream. She'd awoken believing he was already gone. Already dead.

But he was right there beside her.

Watching over her like he'd done every single night since Jacob left. Every single moment.

Despite the way she'd treated him the past few days. Despite the fact that she had shied away from his touch when she went to bed that night, rolling to her side to face away from him and not letting him hold her, when he had clearly needed her as desperately as she needed him.

He was still there.

It wasn't too late. She could still stop him. She would offer him anything he'd ever expressed a desire for: some fancy college, any ridiculous car he wanted to buy her. She'd even stay human, if that's what it took. Marry him in some big lavish wedding. _Anything_.

But she was paralyzed. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe.

_This_ was why she'd pushed him away, she realized. She had subconsciously been putting this conversation off as long as possible, building up walls to keep him out, but only to keep _herself_ from begging and pleading with him.

Until she did it, until he told her _no,_ she could hold onto some small shred of hope he might actually listen to her. That he would change his mind. But when this was done, it was done. And then she would know her entire future.

"Your heart is racing. Are you okay?" Edward asked tenderly, his expression open and full of nothing but concern and love — no recrimination whatsoever for her distance and coldness. But his hand hovered out in the air near her face, obviously unsure if he had the right to touch her or not, after the way she'd behaved.

The walls she'd built to keep him out shuddered, threatened imminent collapse. She could feel the tears welling up until they broke free from her lashes, the first one tracing a wet trail down her cheek.

It seemed to be more than Edward could take. His hand tentatively closed the distance and cupped her cheek with a touch so light it was barely there — like he was afraid she would turn away his touch.

The agony on his face when his thumb brushed across her cheek with excruciating softness and came away wet from her tear was her undoing.

"Oh, Bella," he whispered brokenly. "What can I do?"

He wanted to _help_ her. Even as much as she'd hurt him, he was only worried about her.

It was more than even her well-fortified protective walls could withstand.

"Please don't," she begged by way of answer, and felt the tears begin to flow freely when his hand instantly retreated, misunderstanding her words. He looked gutted.

She reached out and grabbed that cold hand, putting it back. "No! Just don't _do_ it. Please, _please_ Edward...please don't leave me again. Please don't leave me alone."

He sucked in a sharp breath, his mouth falling softly open. His hand against her face reflexively tightened its hold. "I'm not. Bella, I swear to you I'm not." His eyes searched hers wildly. "Why would you think that? Did you have a nightmare?"

He didn't understand, she realized. He didn't equate giving his life to save her as being the same as abandoning her. He saw it as some noble thing.

"Is that what you've been so afraid of?" he begged, and it was clear he expected an answer. "You think I'm going to abandon you again? Is that why you won't even look at me? Bella, I've been terrified _you_ wanted to leave _me._ "

Her resolve was completely gone. She couldn't push him away anymore. She wanted to pour out her soul, answer all his questions, tell him everything she was afraid of and everything Albert had done to her, everything she'd been hiding — even the way her body had been forced against her will to respond when Albert's fingers were inside her, the thing she'd hidden from everyone, the thing she desperately needed to hear her mate say wasn't her fault.

She could _never_ tell him that. After the way he'd growled his mystifying belief that she'd been in bed with Albert in the cabin, he surely wouldn't forgive her.

But in that moment, she was defenseless. The walls had finally collapsed. It was either tell him everything... _everything_...or kiss him.

It said more about her mental state than she cared to examine that she chose kiss him.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	15. Surrender

Chapter 15 - Surrender

Edward caught her as gently as he could when Bella abruptly threw herself upward at him, his free arm wrapping carefully around her back and supporting her.

Her arms went around his neck, trying to pull him downward, practically on top of her — and alarm bells went off in his head. So he resisted and took them the other way instead, rolling to his own back and letting her come to rest partially atop him, chest to chest.

It all happened fast, and he didn't know what was going on — equally as confused by her words and her actions, which didn't seem to go together. He didn't know how to respond, whether to hold on for dear life or bodily extricate himself from the situation.

"Bella, what's..."

He was even more surprised when her warm hands desperately cupped his face the moment his head hit the pillow, cutting him off.

She crashed their lips together, kissing him with urgency — and dragging an equally urgent sound from his own throat as he immediately responded, his head coming up off the pillow to pursue her lips, returning her kiss with every bit of the desperation he'd spent that entire night feeling.

He might not have thrown himself so enthusiastically into that kiss if he hadn't just spent hours believing he'd already lost her, that Bella would never forgive him for the many hurts he'd caused her; if he hadn't been lying beside her, dreading the next day when she left his house, likely for good.

He'd lain there all night, fearing it was the last night he'd ever share a bed with her, trying to savor and commit to memory the feel of her warm weight next to him, even as the distance between them broke his heart all over again.

He certainly hadn't expected this — her mouth opening against his, warm and inviting, for his eager tongue to slip inside and make itself at home, insistently tasting and claiming, reaffirming his right to be there; his arms winding tightly around her waist, pulling her willingly closer against him.

It was overwhelmingly good, kissing his mate for the first time in many months, feeling her responsiveness to his touch — her lack of inhibition.

But it was also nerve-wracking.

He needed to slow this down. He hadn't forgotten what Alice had told him the first time Bella tried to kiss him in the cottage, that things would have ended badly, at least in part due to his own fear to participate.

That wasn't likely to be the issue this time — quite the opposite, in fact.

He wanted to devour her, just forget everything and kiss her until she didn't remember her own damn name, until she forgot everything Albert had done to her — and until he forgot everything he'd done to her himself.

Until she never again had thoughts of leaving him.

Deep down, he felt a primal urge to erase Albert's touch with his own, to throw caution and all of his rules to the wind and give her good memories to replace the bad. Any kind of memories she wanted.

He was, fortunately, all too aware that things don't work that way.

But Bella had just thrown her leg over one of his, straddling his thigh as she lay stretched out right on top of him, and his body was involuntarily starting to respond to his mate's touch in ways she was sure to soon notice, lying on top of him like that.

He wasn't so reckless as not to understand she was nowhere near ready for even _this_ much — that they were heading down a path to disaster if he didn't do something. That thought was sobering enough to stop the runaway freight train that was his craving to keep their mouths sealed together until even _he_ desperately needed to breathe.

With a tenderness he wouldn't have thought himself capable of in the throes of such urgent desperation, he brought his hands to Bella's face, slid them into her hair, and took control of the kiss — but only so that he could gentle it, slow things down.

Still, he slid his lips across hers over and over again, slower and more gently but with no less passion. His tongue lightly stroked hers, softer now but still eager.

"Bella," he whispered against her lips after reluctantly withdrawing his tongue, but she only slid her hands into his hair, clutching it tightly as she went after him again, whimpering.

It seemed like the only thing that terrified her at that moment was him stopping — or maybe him talking.

He gave up for the moment, let her take what she wanted, within reason. It was what he wanted, too. Needed, even. Desperately.

Considering the way she lay right on top of him, he would feel it, he rationalized, if she suddenly grew tense or fearful. He didn't dare give her any reason to believe he was rejecting her, after all — although he did reach down to grasp her waist and shift her just slightly to the side, away from the clearest evidence of how she was affecting him. He dazedly hoped that she would, just for once in her life, stay put.

In the end, he didn't end up having to be the one to stop it. Bella wrenched her mouth away from his when she needed to breathe. But she stayed close, their rapid breaths mingling. He watched her carefully, felt her fingers curl into his t-shirt, holding onto him tightly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, not looking at him.

"Please," she begged, breathless. "Edward, please...please. I don't care what happens. Don't kill yourself to try to stop them. _Please._ I can take anything but that."

He was a little farther gone than he had realized, kissing his mate for the first time in months. It actually took a moment for her meaning to register in his lust-addled brain.

When it did, it floored him.

_That_ was what this had all been about? His carelessly shouted words in the cottage that had revealed too much of his backup plan, if all else failed?

He knew he should have never told her that. He'd known it as it came out of his mouth. But he'd said a _lot_ of things he had no business saying that day. Those particular words had seemed the least of his offenses at the time, to his mind, considering the far worse things he'd said to her. He'd all but made _accusations_ against her, for God's sake. He'd cursed and sworn in front of her, something that made him cringe every time he thought about it — which was often.

But this was, after all, Bella. Utterly absurd in her priorities, most especially the fact that he seemed to always land at the top of that priority list.

He should have known what would upset her most.

He drew in a slow, deep breath and pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning back against the wall to buy a little time as he tried to force his brain to function. She went with him, still straddled across his thigh, until they were both upright. Her arms were locked around his neck, her eyes teary and pleading when they met his. She clung to him like she was afraid he might disappear. His hands settled at her shoulders gently.

"Bella," he reverently said her name, agonized. "I never should have said that to you. It's a last resort only. But if all else fails, I'm not going to sit back and let him hurt you again, not when I already know from Alice that this would work. Not when I know it's all my fault to begin with. I _can't._ Please don't ask that of me."

Her face fell, like he'd just utterly devastated her. He'd never seen her look so wildly desperate, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You wanted to make me promises," she persisted urgently. "So make _this_ one. Promise me you'll just stay here with me, and keep that promise, and I'll do anything you want me to. I'll stay human. I'll marry you. I'll go to whatever college you want and let you buy me ridiculously expensive gifts. You can make as many promises as you want." Her voice broke, her hands clawing at him. "Just please, Edward, don't _do_ that to me. Don't leave me. Not again."

It was agonizing, to hear her beg him so. Yes, he wanted those things she had offered. _All_ of them, aside from keeping her human. She might be surprised about his feelings on that one, just how desperately he wanted her changed so that nothing could ever hurt her again. He could barely think of it, in fact, without his venom automatically flowing, coating his teeth. But he didn't want any of those things _this_ way. How could she still not understand him at all?

"Bella, I don't think you understand," he said bluntly. "If I _don't_ do it, and then can't find another way, you'll never get the chance to do any of those things you just listed, with me or without me. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? He let you go on purpose last time. Next time, he will keep hurting you until he kills you. He plans to _kill_ you, in the worst way imaginable, to get back at me. And this is the only way I've been able to find that changes that."

She sat all the way back on her knees like he'd punched her, making a sound that broke his heart as her hands slowly fell away from their hold around his neck, slid down across his shoulders, and then fell heavily into her own lap.

Her giving up was worse than her begging. Like a light went out in her eyes.

But then she looked briefly up at him, and her stricken expression suddenly changed to one of pure determination — a look he'd seen before, one that never tended to end well for whatever stand he was trying to take at the time.

He tracked her gaze when it abruptly shifted to the nightstand beside the futon, where her dinner plate still sat — the one he'd brought to his room in the hopes that he could get her to eat some of it, since she had only taken a few bites at dinner. Of course, he'd failed in that endeavor.

Her hand shot out and grabbed one of Esme's very sharp new steak knives from her plate before he realized what she was doing, holding it out to him in offering, pointed directly at her own chest. He watched, frozen and wide-eyed.

"Then you may as well just do it yourself," she shot at him, angrily, harshly. "If you're going to do that to me again, if you're going to _leave_ me, then just stick this in my heart and get it over with." She pulled it back closer to her until the point was pressed against the exposed skin at her collarbone, the sharp edge scraping her flesh to the point he could smell the blood welling up just beneath the delicate surface. "Or if you won't do it, Edward, maybe I will. That would change my future too, wouldn't it?"

"Jesus, Bella," he managed to get out, as his right hand shot out to restrain her wrist and jerk it away from her body, none too gently. He swiftly relieved her of her weapon with the left.

"Don't say things like that," he snapped when he'd flung the offending knife across the room, his eyes flashing angrily at even the hint of harm being done to his mate, even by her own hand. He didn't let go of his firm hold on her wrist, his utter _fury_ overriding his usual cautiousness. "It's not the same thing, and you know it!"

But Bella didn't back down, all of her own anger and frustration finally pouring out.

"Isn't it? You always say how I'm your mate and you can't live without me, how you'd follow me if I died. Well, you're mine too! Why can't you understand that it's the same way for me, Edward? I don't want to live without you either! If you die to save me, maybe I'll just follow you too!"

Those final, shouted words hit him.

Hard.

He went utterly still, staring at her, as the truth in her words started to sink in. He wasn't proud of it, but the truth was that, no, it wasn't something he had ever attempted to understand, the notion that it might be the same for her. He had only thought of what it would do to _him_ to lose _her_ to a violent death.

He was the indestructible vampire, after all. The one who'd waited a century to find her. The one who'd never believed for a moment that she could possibly love him with even a fraction of the intensity he felt for her.

But Bella had just managed to get her point across. Very, very clearly.

The reactions of his family inside the house, too, were so volatile throughout the entire conversation that he couldn't completely ignore them.

Aside from Alice, only Carlisle had been aware of the solution he'd been considering — and that was only because Carlisle had been home to overhear the conversation on the roof when Edward discussed Volterra with Alice. No one else had been present. And clearly, neither Alice nor Carlisle had shared that information.

There was a general cacophony of angry and upset thoughts coming from the surrounding rooms, as the rest of his family realized what he'd intended. Their objections were being mentally screamed at him throughout the entire tense scene.

Only one held any impact. It was Esme's, as angry as he'd ever heard her — full of pain at the thought of losing her own son; even more angry on Bella's behalf.

_Oh, Edward, how dare you? How dare_ _you even consider doing that to her?_

He couldn't read Bella's mind. He could read Esme's, loud and clear. He could see what the thought of Carlisle doing such a thing did to her.

Death _would_ be preferable, in Esme's mind, to living without her mate.

It shouldn't be the same for Bella, as a human. The mate bond shouldn't exist at all, much less be that powerful. But they had established long ago that it was. Beyond all reason, it was. That fact had been proven to him more than once.

And he had let himself forget that. Worse, he had _chosen_ to forget, to ignore it to suit his own selfish purposes.

And it _was_ selfish, he saw now. He'd considered his willingness to sacrifice his life for her a noble one. Even a _romantic_ one. And he'd been wrong, because he hadn't considered that ripping himself away from his mate would destroy her just as surely as what Albert had planned for her.

He got it now. Very clearly. It was overwhelming, and humbling, and _terrifying._ But he finally got it, in that one split-second that Bella turned the tables on him and threatened _her_ life to protect his, and he nearly lost his goddamn mind at the very _thought_.

He'd once opined, during a literature class on Romeo and Juliet, that Romeo was an idiot, killing his love out of sheer stupidity.

Romeo had nothing on him in the idiocy department, it seemed. Because Albert may have hurt Bella, but it was Edward himself who had been poised to deliver the killing blow.

"Bella," he breathed softly, as he dropped his fierce grip on her wrist to gently take her shoulders between his hands.

She thought she knew what was coming, the arguments and denials he would make, and she visibly panicked.

"No! Don't you dare!" She tried to angrily push him away. But he wasn't letting go now — not now that he knew what the problem was and how to fix it.

"Bella, look at me."

"I'll hate you for it," she promised, still struggling, hitting him with her hands in her effort to break his soft but very secure grip. She was near hysterics, her voice breaking. "I'll never forgive you, Edward!"

"I know," he said as evenly as he could, barely feeling the blows she rained against his chest. "Bella, stop it before you hurt yourself. Look at me. You're right."

She wasn't listening to a word he said, and her strikes were becoming harder, more uncontrolled as her desperation grew. Afraid she would injure her hands, he gently grabbed her wrists, moved to hold them both securely in one hand, and then cupped her chin with his free hand.

"Hey! I said _y_ _ou're right,_ " he reiterated again, raising his voice to get through to her.

She froze in his hands, her eyes wide and disbelieving. He took advantage of her momentary pause in her struggles. He drew her closer with his hold on her, used every ounce of his ability to captivate her with his gaze, gaining her full attention.

"I said you're right, Bella. You're _right_ , okay? We'll find another way. You wanted a promise? I'm making it, and I've already sworn to you I'll never break another one. I'll find another way. I promise. I won't leave you again. Okay? I won't. No matter what."

Her lip trembled, eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. "Are you telling me the truth? You really mean it?"

The wariness in her eyes hit him hard. What had he done to her?

He let go of her wrists and chin now that she had stopped trying to fight him, both hands coming up to frame her face instead. "I'm as serious as I've ever been in my existence. It scares me senseless, because I haven't found another way yet. But I promise you. I _swear_ , Bella, on your soul — and I hold nothing dearer — I will not intentionally leave you like that. Never again."

He wasn't sure what he expected. Maybe for her to launch herself into his arms. But she just broke down into tears, her entire body sagging as she covered her face with her hands, like she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and it had just been lifted. Her relief was palpable.

He gathered her into his arms, pulling her close. "I've got you," he whispered, assuring himself just as much as her. He pressed his lips to her scalp and clutched her closer, squeezing his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out the guilt he felt for what he'd unknowingly put her through. She was _trembling_.

"I'm sorry, my mate," slipped through his lips, an endearment that had her pushing even closer to him. "I'm so, so sorry. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'm not going anywhere, not ever again. Please, please forgive me, sweetheart. Forgive me. We'll find another way, okay? We'll find one together. Shhhh...I've got you."

* * *

She pushed away from him all too quickly, momentarily alarming him with the abruptness of it, but she clutched at his forearms and held on tightly. Her eyes were locked on his with determination, tears still staining her cheeks.

"In the cabin — he wasn't in bed with me, Edward. Not ever."

The abrupt topic change took him off guard, something only Bella could actually do to him. But as he caught up, he thought he had some idea why Bella was suddenly determined to give him the answers he'd demanded from her before.

His first impulse was to stop her, tell her she didn't have to do this for his sake, that she owed him nothing for the promise he'd just made. She looked _nervous_ about his reaction to her words, for one thing, and it made his guts clench.

"Bella..." he started, but she cut him off, determined to finish.

"I don't know why it smelled like he was there with me, but he wasn't. I was there alone. I was just trying to get away from him when I went in there, Edward, I swear. He kept trying to kiss me, and I...I knew what he wanted. It scared me, because I'd never felt like that with you before, like...like if I said _no_ you might not stop. I had never _wanted_ to say no to you before. I convinced him I needed to sleep, and he showed me which bedroom to take. But then he left me alone. I couldn't believe it, but he did."

Edward shook his head fiercely, still mistaking the sentiment behind her sudden willingness to talk to him.

" _No._ Stop. You don't owe me explanations, Bella. You don't owe me anything. My promises to you are not conditional. Ever."

The tears hanging on her lashes were killing him, almost as much as the brave determination.

"I know," she said softly, still gripping his arms. "But in the cottage, you said you need the truth." She paused, biting her lip and looking almost shy, and bobbed one bare shoulder in a tiny shrug before she continued. "And you just gave me the only thing I'll ever need. You promised to stay."

He winced with shame, at the same time that he practically melted at her sweet words. "I misspoke that day, love. The only thing I actually _need_ is you. Tell me or don't tell me, but do it because you want to, or because it will help you. Not because you think you owe me something now. You don't."

She nodded her head. She took a deep breath. And she kept going.

He'd never, ever loved her as much as he did at that moment.

"He kept coming to stand outside the door, listening. I could hear him out there, moving around. I don't know what he was doing. But I thought every time that that was it, that you were coming in."

That word ' _you'_ made him flinch, but he let it pass. The fact that Bella still struggled with _you_ versus _him_ wasn't exactly new information, no matter how much it still stung.

"He did that for hours. All night. I was _so_ scared. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my own head. I couldn't be still. I knew that you can hear my heart. I knew you would be able to tell I wasn't really asleep. But then I heard the front door slam. I looked out the window, and I saw him outside, talking on the phone."

Edward saw where this was going now, now that Bella had filled in the missing overnight hours for him. She'd told him at least some of the ending before, her making an escape attempt shortly before her attack. He just hadn't known what led up to it, what happened in the hours beforehand. Now he did. And that part, at least, was comforting in a way that words couldn't describe.

Albert hadn't raped her in that cabin. He hadn't succeeded in seducing her either, thank God, despite what was apparently a concerted effort to do so. But Edward's mate hadn't been so easily fooled, he thought with a brief surge of pride. She'd found a way to put the brakes on it, and Albert had had no choice but to play along, still needing her to believe he was Edward. But even that hadn't worked. Her body had known Albert wasn't him, even before her conscious mind came to the same conclusion.

His relief was indescribable. He felt like he could breathe freely, for the first time since he smelled his mate's scent in the same bed as a demented rapist's. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her again, hold her close and just savor that knowledge for a few minutes, the knowledge that at least nothing had been done to her inside the cabin.

But unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the story. He already knew at least some of what came after her escape attempt, although the majority of his knowledge had come from his family and Jacob. Bella had told him very, very few details. The one time they had talked about it, that part had been brief. All he had learned that he hadn't already known was that Albert had made her call him _Edward_ when he touched her. She hadn't volunteered exactly _how_ Albert touched her.

And despite his having pushed for this, he was dreading the details. He needed _contact_ if he was to keep himself grounded — keep himself from descending into the rage that flooded him every time he thought about it. He slid his forearms out of her grasp, gently took her hands in his, softly caressing. That should keep him at least somewhat calm, those delicate fingers between his own.

"So that's when you tried to escape, then," he stated softly. "When you saw him outside." It wasn't even a question.

He'd dreaded hearing the rest of this part, because despite his assurances to her the first time she'd vaguely mentioned it, when he'd told her that her escape attempt had been brave and he was proud of her, she just had no _idea_ what she had risked by running from a vampire. The absolute worst move possible.

Edward would sooner die than hurt her, but even running from _him_ was potentially dangerous, firing off predatory impulses within him that were a struggle to control. He'd proven that himself, multiple times, since his return. Carlisle had barely saved him from chasing her down that first night she ran from him, on the stairs. He'd again struggled to keep his hands to himself when she nearly ran out the door from him the night she found him in the cottage. And less than 24 hours ago, he'd very nearly abducted her in his car, just because he feared her to be ending things with him.

He was dangerous enough himself. But running from a sadistic vampire like Albert, one with no impulse control whatsoever?

That was chilling.

He held her hands a little more tightly as she confirmed his statement.

"Yes. I thought it might be my only chance. I didn't think anyone would be coming to help me."

Could a dead heart bleed? Because he was pretty sure his was.

"I was on my way, Bella," he whispered. "We all were."

She dropped her gaze. "I didn't know that then. I didn't think I could trust anybody, at that point. I sneaked out the back, tried to run away. But I tripped, out in the woods, and I landed on something. It was covered with a tarp. I should have got up, kept running, but I had to know. I pulled the tarp back. I was afraid it would be her body, but I found her things, Edward. Her clothes. Her pictures. Everything that belonged to Lacey _._ I knew he'd killed her as soon as I saw it, and I screamed. I couldn't help it. He found me within seconds."

Edward swallowed the venom pooling in his throat, nodded his head because he couldn't find words at that moment. And his silence must have made Bella nervous, because her tone turned defensive.

"I figured it out right then, that he wasn't _you,_ and I told him. That was why he attacked me when he did. But we were _never_ in the bed together."

The fact that she had now reiterated three times that she was never in the bed with Albert didn't escape Edward's notice. Not for the first time, he regretted his aggressive words in their cottage. He'd made her feel defensive about what happened to her, _guilty_ even, and that was the very last thing he'd ever wanted.

He was also struggling with what he had just heard — Bella, lying terrified all night, in a bed reeking of Albert. Bella, jumping at every sound, watching the door, scared that he was going to come in at any moment and hurt her.

_Him._ Not Albert. Him. She had been afraid _Edward_ was going to come through that door and rape her. She had still thought it was him, at that point, when she'd been being pressured for sex to the point that it frightened her into running away. She'd believed that was _him_.

No matter how many times that realization hit him, it was still a kick in the gut.

As was the innocent way that his Bella didn't instantly understand, as he grimly did, what must have surely happened in that bed mere hours before her abduction to leave such a fresh odor of Albert's venom for him to find.

It was why Edward had been so convinced Albert was in bed with Bella: his scent there was too fresh to have been left _before_ Lacey's death, and Edward knew it. It had happened long after Lacey Matthews died. It had happened very, very close to the time Bella lay there. He'd tried not to admit that to himself, but in his heart he'd known it all along. It was what had scared him to the point he'd finally snapped in their cottage and started snarling out an interrogation.

But if Albert hadn't actually been in the bed _with_ Bella — about which Edward believed her, unequivocally — then that meant Albert had lain in that bed just hours before Bella's abduction.

And he certainly hadn't been sleeping.

Edward could guess with near certainty what he _had_ been doing, though.

He'd been reliving what he did to Lacey there in that bed.

Or imagining what he would do to Bella in it.

And he'd obviously _enjoyed_ it.

There was a reason he'd shown Bella to _that_ room, specifically. The bastard had probably relished the thought of Bella lying there, unknowingly covering herself in his filthy scent. Probably the reason he kept coming to the door, basking in her terror — which he could surely smell too.

He'd likely been _enjoying_ her fright too, standing right outside her door, the same way he'd enjoyed his vile fantasies — only this time, he'd been mere steps from Edward's perfect, innocent Bella.

Edward barely repressed the disgusted snarl that wanted to break free. Was there no end to Albert's depravity?

He nearly lost his focus on Bella, in favor of his own current favorite fantasy — the one where he made Albert beg _him_ to stop as he slowly tore him into pieces, exactly as Bella had begged Albert to stop when he put his goddamn filthy hands on her against her will.

But he recovered quickly at the feel of Bella trembling in his grasp, still awaiting his reaction. He steadied his tone, as best he could.

"First of all, love, I believe you. But it wouldn't have been your fault, regardless of what happened. I'm sorry I made you doubt that, even for a second. I was angry and scared when I said those things, after I'd been to the cabin. I was afraid of what he might have done to you there, or even _tricked_ you into doing. But it's not you I would have blamed."

She looked so relieved, her head slumping down and her whole body exhaling, that it sent a fresh wave of guilt through him. He brought her hand to his lips, softly kissed her knuckles, hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes when that action brought her tentative gaze back to his face.

"I've done a terrible job proving it, but you can tell me anything, sweetheart, and I'll be on your side. _Anything_. It breaks my heart to think there's something you're still afraid to tell me. I won't lie to you about that, Bella. I can't bear the thought of you being afraid of me in any way. But I have no one to blame but myself. I'll earn your trust again some day, if it's the last thing I do."

Her gaze dropped back down to their linked hands, and her breathing picked up. Her heartrate went so high it scared him. She gripped his hands like a lifeline, her eyes squeezing shut.

She was suddenly _terrified._ Enough so that he could scent it. And that terrified _him._

"Bella? Baby, what is it?"

Her eyes came back up to his, and the raw fear there nearly took his breath away. It caught in his throat. His voice went hard, demanding, without his even meaning to.

"Isabella, you're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong."

Her heartrate hadn't slowed in the slightest. "I _do_ trust you. I — Edward, I'm not scared of you. I'll tell you everything. All of it."

He stopped breathing. He had to make a conscious effort to relax the suddenly too-tight grip of his hands around hers. This was what he had wanted, but maybe not like this. Uneasiness edged its way into his gut. He had only been trying to be honest about his feelings. He hadn't meant to manipulate or guilt her into something she didn't want to do, and the idea made him uncomfortable in the extreme.

On the other hand, he _did_ need to know. And she probably needed to get it out.

"Okay," he managed. God, this was it. He was about to hear the worst of it, the thing Bella had so feared telling him, and he wasn't entirely sure he could handle whatever it was — not if it was worse than the parts he already knew. "Only if you're truly ready to tell me, love, I'm listening."

But her head shook fiercely, her eyes darting toward the door of the room. "Not here. Can we go to the cottage? Right now?"

They hadn't been back since Albert and Victoria dumped Lacey's body there, but he knew everything had been thoroughly cleaned and aired out since. Esme had taken care of it personally. Emmett had even gone one night and finished putting in the living room flooring for him — well, for Bella, actually. He hadn't said a word about it, but Edward had heard him thinking about his decision to do so, hoping it would put a smile on Bella's face when she was able to return.

The condition of the cabin wasn't the problem.

He understood she wanted privacy — for his family not to hear whatever she had been so afraid to tell him since the very beginning. It stood to reason she wouldn't want anyone aside from him to know. She was nervous enough about saying it to him.

Still, he hesitated. Being alone, at least anywhere in Forks where they could so easily be found, was simply an impossibility at the moment. He couldn't risk it — not when there was an army of vampires after his mate, including a shield that could hamper his ability to protect her from them.

He opened his mouth to gently explain why he had to deny that request.

_The answer to that question is yes, Edward_ , he heard in his mind from a very serious Alice, just outside his door, before he could speak. _Take her._ _We'll all stay right outside. You won't be alone, but she won't know we're there, I promise, and we won't intentionally listen. It's the best we can do. But she needs this._

"Okay," he agreed softly, with both Bella and Alice, but hesitated again when he remembered Bella's insistence on walking each time they had visited the cottage before. "But it would be safer if we travel quickly. Will you allow me to carry you?"

She paled a little bit, but nodded her agreement. He lifted her bridal style, just long enough to get them both off the futon and stand to his feet. But just as he made a move to set her down so he could transfer her to his back, her arms around his neck quickly tightened.

"Will you carry me like this?" she asked quickly, then bit her lip, embarrassed. She turned a little pink but didn't release her grip in the slightest. "Please?"

Something about it made his heart ache. She still didn't want to ride on his back. The memory of Albert taking her away that way must have still been too fresh, too painful.

The ever-present rage that always bubbled just below the surface swelled up in him again. _Damn_ Albert. Damn him straight to hell for everything he'd taken from them. From _her._

"Of course," he managed to get out. "Close your eyes, Bella. I'll go out the window."

She turned her face into his shoulder, holding on tightly as he did just that. And she didn't look up again until they were in the cottage.

* * *

When he set her down just inside the living room of the cottage, he was aware of two things: the uneasy tension between them and the fact that Bella was shivering.

He could deal with the first when the time came. It wasn't entirely unexpected, now that her initial emotional impulse to tell him everything had had time to cool, time for her nerves to set in.

The second problem demanded his more immediate attention.

It was unseasonably cool outside for late April, and they hadn't even stopped to get her shoes. He'd been too focused on granting her request immediately.

She was barefoot and wearing nothing but a tank top and her pajama pants. His eyes stayed carefully on her face and not on the pebbled little points of her breasts beneath that thin tank top. Wishing he'd had the foresight to grab the blanket from the futon and wrap it around her before they left his room, he crossed to the thermostat at vampire speed, turning on the heat and pushing it higher. Then he thought about it some more and pushed the heat as high as it would go.

He'd kept the heat in the cottage turned up during the days they'd worked there together, as the nights were still pretty cool. But no one had been there recently except his family. They had no need of the heat and so had turned it off, since there was no reason to believe Bella would return there anytime soon.

Or maybe someone _had_ optimistically believed Bella might be able to come back soon. There was a brand-new wood barrel just beside the hearth, neatly stacked with wood, and fresh kindling in the fireplace. A box of long fireplace matches was also provided, sitting in the center of the hearth.

"Are you cold?" Edward asked needlessly, just to have something to say, something to hopefully take the edge off Bella's nerves. He went straight from the thermostat to the fireplace without looking in her direction again, already grabbing pieces of wood from the barrel as he spoke. "The heat is coming on now, but I'll start a fire to warm you up faster."

He was moving fast, his own case of nerves making him jumpy. He was so busy lamenting the fact that he couldn't personally provide warmth for his mate by holding her in his arms, like a human boyfriend would be able to do, that he didn't even realize she had moved closer to him. Very close, in fact. She was standing right behind his shoulder where he knelt in front of the hearth, rubbing her hands briskly up and down her arms.

"Should you really be doing that?" she asked with concern, as he struck the match. "Fire?"

Despite his own tension, he couldn't help the affectionate smile her concern brought to his face, as he glanced up over his shoulder at her. Something about fragile, oh-so-breakable Bella worrying about _his_ bodily safety always simultaneously amused him and hit him right in the heart. Every single time.

"I wasn't really planning on sticking my hand in it," he joked, as he finished lighting the kindling and tossed the match into the flame. His tone was light, still trying to deescalate the tension in the room a little.

But instead of smiling back, Bella's face started to crumple with tears, just as she turned to hide her face from him.

He was on his feet at her side in less than one of her heartbeats, his face utterly serious.

"Hey...whatever we're here to talk about, sweetheart...I promise you it's going to be okay." She was so visibly nervous that he didn't dare reach for anything other than her hand, which he took carefully into his own and threaded his fingers through hers. "Will you trust me on that?"

She stared at her hand in his, rather than meeting his eyes. "I don't even know where to start now."

He considered that a moment. "Why don't you start by telling me what it is you're afraid will happen if you talk to me about this?"

"I'm afraid you'll..." She paused, her brow furrowing as she tried to put her vague fears into words. "I don't know. That you'll be mad at me, I guess? Or not mad. Disgusted, maybe. That you won't...that you won't want me anymore."

That did it. Edward was tired of suppressing his instincts, which nearly _always_ told him to kiss her. And they had already made it safely through the barrier of that first kiss, back in his room — although not in the careful, gentle way he'd have liked.

With his free hand, he softly tipped her chin up toward him with one finger. He let her see his intentions as he bent his head to slowly bring his mouth to hers, giving her plenty of time to back away.

She didn't. Her heart raced, but she didn't.

He kissed her sweetly, tenderly, the way he'd intended their eventual 'first' kiss to go, letting her feel how much he loved her through that kiss. And she kissed him back, still holding his hand and tightening her grasp around it. He broke the kiss when she whimpered into his mouth, before he lost himself completely.

Then he looked right into her eyes, rested his forehead against hers. "None of that is even possible, Bella. You're everything to me. I'll always want you, and you couldn't change that if you tried."

She squeezed his hand and then let go, pulling completely away from him, but it didn't alarm him this time. He'd seen the decision in her eyes just before she did so, and he knew what she was doing: creating some distance, enough to make her comfortable to talk.

She didn't want to look at him or touch him when she said...whatever it was. And considering the rage that shot through him at even the slightest mention of her being hurt, every single time, that might be for the best.

Her arms crossed over her chest, like she was protecting herself. She paced a couple steps away from him, turning her back to him, staring into the fire.

"It's about when he...when he touched me," she started tentatively. "I didn't tell you all of it before. Everything he did. I didn't tell anybody. But it...it went on for a long time. A really long time." Her voice was defensive again on that last point, like she felt the need to justify something, and he couldn't understand that. Surely even Bella had to know that was in no way her fault. "I don't know. Maybe it really wasn't that long. But it seemed like forever."

"I'm sure it did," Edward said softly, just to let her know he was still with her. He didn't know where this was going, but the topic already had his venom boiling, that ball of anger coiling ever tighter in his chest..

"I told you about finding Lacey's things, and him finding me there. When I told him I knew he wasn't you, he — he was furious. He got in my face, yelled at me. It scared me, but I — I just said it again. I don't know why I did that, why I argued with him. I knew he wasn't you. I knew he was dangerous."

Edward knew how the story ended, or he thought he did. Details like that really shouldn't make his muscles tense when he thought of Bella recklessly taunting her lethal captor. What was done was done, and nothing said now would change it.

At the same time, that last statement warmed his cold, dead heart, gave him something to hold onto for what was surely to come. She'd implied that arguing with Albert was dangerous simply because he wasn't Edward — the unspoken contrast being that she knew she was safe arguing with _him_.

It wasn't much, but it still pleased him. He'd always secretly loved that Bella, despite her frailty compared to his raw power, very rarely backed down to him. Even if she sometimes drove him to insanity, especially with her damned aversions to safety-consciousness, he wanted her to always feel comfortable speaking her mind to him. Especially now, after what Albert had done to her, the fact that she'd been seeing _him_ when it happened.

"He grabbed hold of me. I — I told him...I told him you'd kill him if he touched me. I think maybe I knew. I think I always knew what he wanted to do to me, even back in the cabin before — before I knew he wasn't you."

That made two of them. Edward had known too. He didn't dare speak, react in any way at that moment. If Bella saw what this was already doing to him, she'd stop. He was grateful for the cold night that had prompted him to build that fire, giving her something to focus on other than him. She was still staring into it, almost like she saw her memories playing out in the flickers of flame.

"He threw me down on the ground. He ripped my shirt in half and...and got on top of me. I thought that was it, that — that he was about to...you know. But he wanted me to believe he was _you_ first. He wanted to _make_ me believe it. He told me he'd prove it to me. He said — he said his mate wasn't going to talk to him that way. That he was going to show me...show me who and what I was mated to."

Edward couldn't help the disgusted snarl in his throat, one that briefly brought Bella's startled eyes to him. He shouldn't have done that. But dear God. Somehow, that one statement being made to her in _his_ body affected him as deeply as the physical part of it — that twisting of their sacred mating bond into something ugly and abusive, as though his desire as a dominant male vampire was to subjugate and control his mate, tread her underfoot, rather than using his strength and power only to worship and protect her with his own body, to spend his entire eternity giving her all of himself.

He'd rip out that lying sack-of-shit's tongue for that bit of mind-rape alone, if it had messed with Bella's head about the meaning of their bond. So help him God, he would.

"He grabbed my throat. He made me look at him and say your name, over and over. He barely let me breathe. I think I...I started to lose consciousness a few times. But he wouldn't let me close my eyes. He wanted me to believe it was _you._ I think that's what he was waiting for. He did that for a long time. Until...until I started calling him your name without him making me."

Edward's fists clenched. Of course that was what that bastard had been waiting for. Of fucking course it was. And depriving her brain of oxygen had only hastened the inevitable. God. The reckless bastard could easily have _killed_ her like that, if he'd lost control for even one millisecond. He could have crushed her windpipe, and Edward would have lost her right there.

And the horror was just beginning.

"That's when he tore my shirt the rest of the way off. Then my bra. It hurt when he did that. I tried to cover myself, with my arms, but he — he just tore my jeans off too. I couldn't cover myself anymore."

She was becoming more upset as she told this part, hugging herself more tightly, and Edward's heart ached in sympathy. His fists clenched at his sides, needing an outlet for his white-hot fury, but he held his tongue and his place. The best thing he could do for her at the moment was listen quietly. Touching her was out of the question. She looked ready to bolt out the door at any moment already, standing ramrod straight, trembling as she stared into the fireplace.

"He started to — he — he ripped my panties in half last. But he did it slow. To scare me, I think. I couldn't look at him anymore, couldn't look at him and see _you._ I tried to cover my face, but he — he yanked my hands away. I remember it hurt my wrists. The ground hurt my back, too. I think — I think I was bleeding. I wondered if he would smell it, if he would kill me because of it. I even remember the look on his face. He was _smiling._ I don't know why, but that one moment is so clear. Even more than the rest."

Edward knew why. It was the moment her last defenses had been taken from her, when she truly realized what was about to happen to her — at the nonexistent mercy of a man who looked exactly like _him_. He was grateful she was still staring into the fire, not looking at him right then. He'd never been more deadly. He undoubtedly looked like a murderously wrathful vampire at the moment.

Which he was.

That son of a bitch had smiled when he'd finished stripping Edward's mate bare, terrorizing her as he did so. He'd fucking _smiled._

Albert's teeth. That was one body part Edward hadn't yet fantasized about cramming down his throat, or maybe slowly removing one at a time. An oversight he'd be glad to remedy when he made his fantasies a reality.

And God help him, Bella was looking straight at him now, her composure unraveling rapidly.

"He said he was going to enjoy it, hurting me. He called me _love_ , like you." She closed her eyes, shuddered, and then fixed her gaze right back on Edward, who could only look back helplessly. "He said — he said, 'I should have claimed you a long time ago.' And he — he told me to say your name, right when he...when he grabbed my arms and pinned me down. All I could see was your face. And he just kept saying it — 'say my name' — over and over."

Edward focused on the air going in and out of his lungs, counting his breaths. It was that or put his fist through something.

"He held my arms down and — and pushed my body down, with his. He forced himself in between my legs. It felt like he was crushing me. He was so heavy. He was dressed, but I could feel that he was...he was hard. He was enjoying hurting me, Edward, and that scared me. I thought...I thought I was going to die. I thought I'd never see you again. That you'd never know what happened to me."

He couldn't be silent anymore, but nor could he find the words. The infuriated growl building low in his chest said it all for him. It didn't seem to worry Bella, thankfully, but she did turn back toward the fire, looking away from him. Her voice grew softer. A little more wavery.

"That's when it started. He put his...his mouth on my...my chest. His tongue too, I think. It was hard to tell. It...it just hurt a lot. I never thought that would hurt so bad."

The idea that Bella might think that was what being touched by _him_ would feel like was enough to finally loosen Edward's tongue.

"It shouldn't," he rasped hoarsely. "He was hurting you on purpose, Bella."

_I'd never hurt you like_ _that,_ he wanted to say but didn't dare. It was too late, anyway. She was already going on with her story, her agitation growing with each new revelation — as did his.

"My shoulders hurt too. He had my arms pushed down, right beside my head, and just...just kept his mouth on me. He wouldn't stop. It hurt _so_ bad, but I couldn't get away. I _tried._ I did everything I could. I looked right at him when he told me to. I said your name every single time he wanted me to. And he still wouldn't _stop._ "

Edward had seen those bruises on her arms, just below her shoulders, the first night he came home. He'd noted the angle of the thumb and fingerprints he'd seen marring the soft undersides of her arms, could clearly visualize the unnatural way her biceps would have to have been held pinned back beside her ears to make those particular marks at that angle — a position that made her completely helpless and vulnerable, straining her shoulders, her back forced into an arch.

Now he also knew what had been happening to her while that was being done, and to put it succinctly, it pissed him the fuck off. He wanted to fly apart in a rage, pulverize an entire wall into powder, but this wasn't about him.

"It wouldn't have mattered what you did," he tried to soothe her instead, with long-practiced calmness he didn't really feel. "There is nothing you could or should have done differently."

"When he let my arms go, I — I covered my chest." She hugged herself tighter as she said it, eyes glued on the fire. Edward actually flinched when the fire popped, his full attention on Bella.

"I thought it was over. I was so _stupid_. I didn't think anything he did could hurt worse than my...my breasts. Even putting my arms over them hurt. They were so...so sore. So raw. I couldn't think about anything but protecting them, keeping him from touching me there again. I didn't even realize what he was about to do to me."

God, after all he'd been through to get her to talk, Edward wanted nothing more than to stop her now. He wasn't sure he could hear what surely came next.

She had only told him before that Albert had held her down, touched her, made her say his name. She hadn't offered further specifics. He wasn't sure he could handle the fully detailed version.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he said and meant it. His own voice was so gravelly with fury he barely recognized it. "God. I'm going to hurt him for you. I swear. I'm going to make him suffer."

He meant that too. But he wasn't sure if Bella even heard him. She barely slowed down, her eyes looking past him like she didn't even see him.

"But then he...he grabbed my thighs. That's when I realized it wasn't over. He pulled them...pulled them open. I tried not to let him, but it hurt too much. I promise, Edward, I tried. I fought him. But he's so strong, like you."

"Jesus," Edward couldn't keep from slipping out. "God, Bella." It was all spilling out of her now, her words coming in a rush, and there was nothing he could do to stop the horror.

"He started...touching me. Just, like, the outside. That part didn't hurt, but it was...it was almost the worst part. He made me look at him. I couldn't get away. I couldn't stop him. I knew what he was going to do next, but I didn't know when. I was so scared. He wouldn't let me back up. I couldn't even close my legs. I begged him to stop. I said your name even when he didn't ask, because I thought maybe he'd stop if I did. But then I just...I couldn't anymore."

Edward's fingers tremored. His whole arms followed. He was going to do violence before this night was through. He was not going to survive this.

"You couldn't what, sweetheart?" he managed to choke out.

"I couldn't call him your name anymore. I couldn't let him keep pretending he was _you_. I remember yelling at him, telling him he wasn't you. I wouldn't look at him, even when he tried to make me. I thought he was going to kill me for it. I think maybe I _wanted_ him to. But he didn't. He just...he..."

Her hands came up and covered her face as an anguished sob broke free, and Edward closed the small gap between them in one stride, putting his arms around her and pulling her securely against him. Her hands stayed over her face, trapped between their bodies, but he held on as tightly as he dared and she didn't fight him.

"Let it out, Bella," he said as gently as possible in his utterly outraged condition. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you tell me. Get the rest of it out. Then you won't have to deal with it alone anymore."

It was the right thing to say. She pushed closer against him, her hands coming down from her face to grip his shirt at the sides of his waist, holding on, her breath shaky and stilted. She was only getting a few words out at a time now, dangerously close to hyperventilating as she sucked in air between attempts to speak.

"He put his...his fingers in me. Inside me. Right after I yelled at him. He did it fast, like...like he was punishing me for...for not believing he was you. I don't...I don't know how many, or for how long. It hurt so much that I...I thought he was killing me, at first. He was... _moving_ them, and it hurt, and I — I just remember fighting as hard as I could. I tried to say your name so he would stop. But then he...he made me...he made me...oh God, Edward, I can't!"

Her whole body shuddered, and Edward pulled her impossibly closer, those last words gutting him.

So that was it. Albert had made her _do_ something. He hadn't been content just to make her a passive victim. He'd forced her to somehow participate in her own defilement. That must have been what Bella had been so afraid to tell him, the thing she'd heartrendingly believed he might not be able to look past.

He wanted to focus on _her,_ on reassuring her that he blamed her for nothing — not on letting his imagination run away with him about what other depraved acts Albert might have made her commit. But he'd already been teetering dangerously close to the edge, so that was a losing battle. He was positively _seething_.

What was it? What fucking _was_ it? He'd read the minds of one too many sexual predators during his brief rebellion against Carlisle, when he'd stalked such minds, so he had a disturbing mental archive of horrors to choose from.

Had Albert forced her to touch him? Forced her to put her hands on him, masturbate him? Or God forbid, forced her mouth onto him? Had the filthy creature sodomized her?

"I'm right here," Edward said into her hair with a tenderness he was surprised he could manage at the moment. "You can do this, Bella. You can tell me. You can tell me anything."

He felt her head shaking _no_ against his chest. "I can't. I _can't._ "

"You can," he reiterated firmly. He'd be damned if she'd just put herself through reliving all of this for nothing, only to have to go through it again later. And at this point, if he didn't find out what Albert had forced her to do, he'd lose his mind completely, imagining the worst. "Trust me, Bella. Nothing bad is going to happen, no matter what you tell me now. _Nothing_ he made you do is your fault."

She held on tightly, seeming grateful to be able to bury her head in his chest where he couldn't see her face. "It _is_ my fault! Edward, I — I — I couldn't stop it! He had his fingers in me, but he...he was touching the outside of me too. Higher up. Where...where my...you know. My...my clit."

_Fuck._ Edward didn't mean to flinch like he did when she said that, not when Bella could surely feel it, but he hadn't expected that. The careful composure he'd somehow maintained for Bella had very nearly just come unglued at the thought of that vile monster seeing, touching, _hurting_ Bella's most sacred places — places that he'd barely even allowed himself to think of before, places that should bring her only pleasure. Places that they should have tenderly explored together their first time, preferably as man and wife, but always as eternal mates.

Places on her body that he would have loved and worshipped, not hurt.

The humiliated blush he could smell rising up Bella's chest, having to say that word to him, made his heart ache for her. She'd barely said it in a whisper, burying her face deeper in his chest. That she should have to be _embarrassed_ about her own body, in front of _him,_ her own mate, for something that was no fault of her own — it was unbearable.

"Bella...sweetheart..." he tried, wanting to tell her she had no reason to be embarrassed with him, but she became frantic.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't _want_ to. It _hurt_. It hurt so much. But he just kept going. He wouldn't stop. For a long time, he wouldn't stop, and he made me...he made me..."

Edward stopped breathing, his hands going down to clench her waist reflexively. He suddenly knew exactly what Bella had so very needlessly blamed herself for. Albert had forced her body into climax, a purely physiological response over which she had no control — and which Albert had had decades to figure out how to manipulate and further shame his victims by forcing on them.

It had definitely been done to her on purpose. Edward had no doubt of that. Albert's psychological torture had been very nearly as cruel and efficient as the physical. He surely knew what it did to his victims, to be made to feel as though they'd _wanted_ it.

But now Edward knew. He knew, and he was going to make it very, very clear that Bella had done nothing wrong.

* * *

One panicked thought rang in Bella's mind when she felt Edward's body go rigid and tense as he held her, his hands suddenly grasping her waist tightly.

He knew.

_Edward knew._

She hadn't even been able to bring herself to say the words yet. Somehow, he knew.

He knew every way in which Albert had humiliated her. He knew about her being naked and spread wide as another man touched her, in vivid detail.

A man who looked just like him.

And he knew what she had done when it happened. The _shameful_ thing she had done.

_He knows._

_He knows._

_He knows._

What the hell had she been thinking? Why would she tell him something like that, a secret she should have taken to her grave?

What had made her think he could ever forgive that? _Edward_ , born in 1901, for whom her virginity was so very important. She couldn't even imagine what he must think of her — the utter disgust and _revulsion_ he must feel now at the sight of her.

Terror welled up in her. She had just got him back. He had promised to _stay_. And now she was going to lose him because she just couldn't keep her stupid mouth shut.

All because he'd told her it broke his heart that she was afraid to talk to him and she'd just wanted to _fix_ it.

But instead, she'd broken everything. Again.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, and wrenched herself out of his arms. "I'm sorry."

And she turned and fled, running for the front door.

* * *

She never got to that door.

She made it all of five steps before strong arms closed around her from behind, pulling her back firmly against a hard marble chest. Edward's arms wrapped all the way around her, over her arms, holding her still and easily putting down her frantic struggle. Her weight was barely even on her own feet.

"Let me go!" she sobbed, wanting nothing more than to get as far away as her legs would carry her. "Damnit, Edward, _let me go!"_

The voice close behind her ear was low, calm, made of velvet.

"I will. But you're going to listen to what I have to say first. He forced that on you, Bella. There's a name for what he did to you. Forced orgasm. _Forced._ That means you didn't want it, and it's not your fault. He knew exactly what he was doing. I'm sure he's done it before. _He_ was in the wrong, not you. I'll not have you blaming yourself anymore, not for something you couldn't possibly control."

Fresh embarrassment flooded her, renewing her attempts to escape his firm grasp. She had to get _out_ of there. How could she ever look him in the eye again? But she got absolutely nowhere.

"Just let me go," she begged, eyes squeezed shut with humiliation as she thrashed against him.

Edward's voice was still perfectly calm, hushed, not in a rush as he bent his head to speak even more directly into her ear.

"I will when you stop trying to run from me and listen. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm not embarrassed. This was done _to_ you, Bella. It's not something you did. And he's going to pay for it. I can promise you that. So if you're under the misapprehension that I'm in any way upset with you, you can stop worrying about that. I'm not. We're fine. Do you hear me?"

His hold had somewhat slackened as her struggles grew less, so she gave one vicious wrench of her body, trying to pull away. He very calmly and casually retightened his hold, just enough to hold onto her, but she was stunned by the short, low warning growl in his chest. One she'd never heard before. One directed at _her._ It surprised her enough that she stilled, quit fighting him. Almost like her body instinctively reacted to that sound.

"We're done running from each other, Bella," he informed her then, without alarm, though his tone still held a hint of authority. "That ended tonight, when you made it clear that you refuse to live without me, just as I refuse to live without you. I'm your mate. It's time I start acting like it. You're not running out that door from me."

* * *

If he was human, his heart would be pounding in his chest. He was taking a risk, and he knew it. He was risking triggering her, at the very least. Maybe even making her physically afraid of him again. Physically overpowering her went against every single carefully considered line he'd drawn about dealing with his very human mate, especially a traumatized one. So did speaking to her that way, and most definitely growling at her.

But the harder he'd tried to treat her like a fragile human — and the less he'd treated her like his vampire mate — the worse and worse things had become.

He'd very nearly lost her once, right after James, for his reticence to risk scaring her by verbally claiming her. It had turned out she'd _needed_ that from him.

He'd nearly lost her several more times since Albert went after her, simply by repressing his instincts and trying to handle her with kid gloves, unwittingly overcompensating for his deep-seated fear that she was terrified of him. He'd only managed to leave her confused, lost, believing he didn't care.

Even when he'd yelled at her in their cottage, it hadn't been his jealous aggression that had so upset her; it had been the threat of him dying to save her. What had nearly destroyed their relationship was his failure to understand that his absence or death would have the very same effect on her that hers would have on him.

Because he was _her_ mate, just like she was his. Human or not.

So when she ran from him this time, when he found himself once again fighting his instinct to give chase and put his hands on her, inspiration struck.

Maybe he _shouldn't_ fight his instincts. Maybe Bella, in some primal way that was already more vampire than human, needed him _not_ to fight what came naturally.

In less than a second, less than two of her steps, he quickly considered the times that his growls or purrs had seemed to comfort his mate after her nightmares, as though she were already a vampire herself. He remembered that it was his instinctively uttered threats of violence against Albert — the ones he had tried and failed to hold back for fear of terrifying her — that had opened that locked bathroom door between them right after his return, when all of his caution had failed.

It seemed pretty simple, all of a sudden. Bella didn't need a watered-down vampire, tiptoeing around her and clumsily trying to imitate a human lover. She needed her goddamn vampire mate. He was...almost certain of it.

Despite his confidence in that theory, which was strong enough to get him this far — restraining her and asserting his dominance to the point that he'd just growled at her and told her he wasn't going to let her run — he was still hyperaware of her every heartbeat, alert to any scent of true fear coming from her.

He'd release her in a split second if he caught even a trace of actual physical fear on the air. But this wasn't that.

God, he hoped he was right and it wasn't that. He put his mouth back close to her ear when she pulled against his arms again. He kept his voice low, quiet, calm.

"Stop that. I want you to hear what I'm saying to you. Every single word he said to you, every last thing he did, it was all for one purpose. He meant to destroy your trust in me. He meant to drive us apart, and he had a plan how to do it. Nothing you did differently would have changed any of what he did, and you couldn't have stopped him."

Bella whimpered, pulled weakly against his grasp. Her fight was ebbing. "But I could have..."

_"No,"_ he cut her off, on what was very nearly another growl, tightening his arms around her to illustrate his point. "You couldn't have, any more than you can get out of my arms right now. He's a thousand times stronger than you. He's evil, and he's sick, but he's smart, Bella. He sent you back to me on purpose, while he and Victoria have been creating this army. He believed he'd already driven an impenetrable wedge between us, made you afraid of me. He knew what that would do to me, how it would paralyze me, make it easier for them to take you away from me next time, destroying me through you. It nearly worked. But he made one mistake. The same mistake I did."

She had temporarily stilled in his arms, listening. She gave one last tug when he paused, testing his strength, but it was halfhearted at best. "What mistake?" she whispered, finally, when he didn't volunteer his meaning. Her voice was barely audible, but curious. He had her attention, at least. He'd pushed it this far. No going back now. He steadied himself, put his mouth even closer to her ear.

"We both underestimated _you_ , the depth of your love for me, how strong our bond already is. You've been the strongest of all three of us, Bella. You saw right through him. I've just been playing right into his hands this entire time, not letting myself believe you would ever be able to love me again. I haven't been what you needed me to be, because I was too afraid of overstepping my bounds. But that's over. You're my mate. And you convinced me tonight, when you picked up that knife, that you can't live without me, any more than I can without you. As long as that remains true, I'm not going to let you shut me out or run from me anymore. So you can stop trying to get away from me. I'm not going anywhere, Bella Swan. And neither are you."

He held his breath, hoping against hope that he hadn't gone too far.

But after what was the longest three seconds of his existence, she sagged back against him, going limp in his arms as she whimpered his name.

And he felt it this time, what he'd been waiting for.

Surrender. _Submission._ She wasn't just luring him into false complacence this time, only to try to escape his hold again. His mate had responded to his show of strength and dominance, submitting to a stronger vampire, just like any vampire might. But she didn't seem afraid of him for it, thank God. If anything, it had calmed her, as he hoped. Made her feel safe in the strong arms of her mate. Made her _stop_ running from him.

He drew a shaky breath of utter relief, head falling back and eyes briefly turning upward. It _worked_. It had scared the life out of him to try something like that on her, especially after the things she'd just told him — including the cruel words Albert had said to her, making the concept of 'mate' out to mean some kind of cruel and intimidating tyrant.

It had still worked, despite all that. She'd responded favorably to his dominance.

That kind of power over her was, honestly, a little terrifying. He could never, never let himself abuse it. It definitely needed to go both ways, once she was changed.

But it already did, he abruptly realized. She may have just surrendered to him. But he'd already surrendered to her earlier in the night, when she'd decisively changed his plans for Volterra by picking up that knife and making it clear what she needed.

That knot of uneasiness in his chest unwound a little. Albert had got into his head, too, with that mate talk, made him doubt his own intentions. But the truth was he'd gladly surrender to Bella, any damn time she needed.

"Come here, Bella," he said quietly, turning her in his arms. He exhaled gratefully when her arms wrapped around his waist tightly and she pressed the side of her face into his chest. His lips found the top of her head, where he pressed a gentle kiss. "It's all over now. No more secrets between us. Have you told me everything?"

She nodded against his chest. "I...I think so. I kind of don't remember much after that, until...until Jacob came. And then your brothers. It wasn't very long after. I'm sure they told you the rest of it."

He nodded his head, his nose nuzzling into her hair. "If you remember anything else, no matter what it is, I want you to come to me with it. When you have a nightmare, you tell me about it, even if it's about me. I don't want you trying to face this alone anymore. Okay?"

She squeezed him tightly, an unspoken yes. "You're really not upset?"

He needed her to see his eyes, see how serious he was. He gently pulled her back, tipped her chin up to his with a careful finger. She met his gaze, still tentative, her eyes still teary.

"With you? Not in the slightest." He bent down and gently kissed her lips, one soft, chaste kiss to show her how very little she had to worry about. Now that that particular door was open, he intended to keep it that way. "I'm only sorry you carried this so long. But it doesn't change anything for me, Bella. Not one thing."

Her breath was still shaky, her cheeks pinking. "But you...you wanted to marry a virgin. Somebody...you know, _pure_. It was so important to you."

He chased her gaze when it dropped shyly, cupped her cheek with his hand and got her eyes back on him. "Hey...what's important to me is _you._ I don't care about the rest of that. I never did. It was _you_ I was trying to protect by waiting, not me. _Your_ soul. Your virtue. And you're still pure, Bella. You didn't choose to do anything with him. But it wouldn't matter to me either way."

She shook her head, looking frustrated. "But I'm not the same now. I'm _not."_

His head dipped closer, his voice serious. "You're still my Bella. Nothing can change that. I know it won't be easy. But anything we have to work through, we will."

Her lip trembled, but she nodded. Then she threw herself forward and hugged him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"I don't want to go home tomorrow. I don't want to leave you."

_Jesus._

The knot of fear that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach days before, when Bella first began to push him away, dissolved instantly. He breathed deep, inhaling her sweet scent deep into his nostrils, and wrapped his arms tight around her. "You're not leaving me. I wouldn't let you. I won't let anything come between us again, Bella. Not ever. Where you go, I go."

* * *

An hour later, after he'd carried her back to the main house cuddled tightly against his chest, once he'd tenderly kissed her in his room and then hummed her lullaby until she fell asleep in his arms, it all finally hit him as she lay curled up against him, sleeping peacefully.

Everything she'd gone through. Everything Albert had done to her.

The fact that he hadn't been there to stop it.

Every word she had said played back through his mind, with perfect recall. And it was torture.

He'd kept it together for her, when she'd told him her story. He didn't know how, but he had.

But now he was abruptly falling apart, his rage needing an outlet. Rage he couldn't possibly vent with his precious Bella sleeping in his arms.

"Go," he heard, as he trembled with the effort it took to keep his strength at bay, and looked up to see Alice standing there above them. He saw his face through her thoughts, and it was terrifying — the pitch-black fury in his own eyes. He looked every bit the monster he'd always believed himself to be. He wasn't purring anymore, despite Bella in his arms. He was growling, a low and deadly sound.

"I said go," Alice repeated sternly. "I won't leave her side until you come back."

He didn't go far — he couldn't. But he went far enough to yell and scream his rage into the empty forest, where Bella wouldn't hear it. He pulled trees up out of the ground whole and slung them like they were twigs. He pummeled boulders with his fists until they were powder. He yelled threats and promises of violence to the empty sky, ones he had every intention of carrying out.

When he was done, an entire acre looked like a goddamn war zone. It still wasn't enough. Not by half.

But when he quietly slipped back through the front door and sank down onto the living room couch with his head in his hands, wishing for the first time in his existence that he could actually cry, it wasn't long before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He tensed, ready to go on the attack. But it was only Rosalie.

She wasn't effusive. Rosalie never was. She didn't hug him or try to coddle him. But her hand firmly squeezed his shoulder, and one corner of her lips turned up slightly with approval.

"You did fine, Edward," she said quietly, very matter-of-factly. "She's lucky to have you."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	16. Balance

Chapter 16 - Balance

As much as Edward wanted to return to the warm bed in his room that currently held his even warmer mate, pull her back into his arms and hold and kiss her just because he finally felt like he _could_ , there were some other orders of business he first needed to attend to after he got himself together, after he got a lid on the maelstrom of emotion that had led to his meltdown in the woods.

And going near Bella wasn't going to help get his head on straight. Not at the moment, anyway. Not when all he could think about, now that he had vented some of his rage and was back inside — where all he could hear was her heartbeat and all he could breathe was her luscious scent — was the way her body had almost instinctively responded and relaxed into him when he stopped her running from him, when he dropped the last of his human pretenses, stopped fighting his instincts and let himself just be a vampire with her. With his _mate._

The implications of it all had his head spinning.

There was no vestige of doubt remaining. She truly was _his_. His mate. And she always would be — especially if he had anything to say about it, which he intended to.

But even more dizzying, she had proven that _he_ was just as much _her_ mate when she picked up that knife and informed him she didn't intend to live without him either.

That was the harder part to wrap his mind around, that she could possibly need someone like him so very much. She deserved so much better. But she _did_ need and want him, and so he was hers. _Her_ mate. He belonged to Bella — body, heart, and...and maybe even soul. He was willing to consider that maybe he _did_ still have one, because how could it be possible to have that type of intense connection with such a beautiful soul as Bella's if he didn't have one of his own?

Wanted. Loved. _Needed_. Words he'd never expected to use to describe himself, given the monster he believed he was, given the things he had done — the very existence of Albert being one of the most damning pieces of evidence against him.

Nonetheless, his Bella had passionately declared she couldn't live without him; threatened her own life in a desperate attempt to preserve his.

And he wouldn't forget that feeling for the rest of his existence. He wouldn't forget what it meant.

It meant that for the first time since 1918, it truly mattered if he lived or died.

He'd long known _he_ couldn't live without _her_. But to have that all-consuming need so utterly and thoroughly reciprocated? It had turned him completely upside down and inside out.

And like the nighttime followed the day, that acknowledgement and the kisses they'd shared began to stoke the fires of other needs he'd pushed to the back of his mind since the day of Alice's vision — other desires, other pleasures he wanted to share with his mate. Pleasures he wanted to give her, to show her how it was _supposed_ to be. What it was supposed to feel like, when her mate touched her.

He'd temporarily satisfied the demon of his fiery rage out in the forest. Bella herself had done battle with his demon of self-doubt and defeated it.

Now, the slower-burning demon of desire set its sights on him. And that was one that would have to be handled delicately.

Very delicately, and not only because Bella was still human. He couldn't just count on her near-instinctive responses to him as her mate to carry them through that one. The things Albert had done to her, the things she had described to him — they didn't just infuriate him. They terrified him, when he thought about the prospect of moving forward physically with his mate.

Therein lay his problem: she was _his_ now, unequivocally and unarguably, and he'd finally really accepted that he actually got to keep her — but he still didn't dare touch her. At least not the way nature dictated.

If it was just his own desire, he'd be content to table the issue indefinitely. He'd wait for Bella forever. What was another century or even two, so long as she was at his side while he waited? He could be unendingly patient. But it wasn't just him. He'd heard her heart race when they kissed, especially that last, gentle kiss he'd been unable to resist giving her just before he hummed her to sleep. She'd been thinking about more too, just as he had. He'd seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she clutched him to her.

But he'd also seen and felt the uncertainty, kissing him while they lay on that futon that had become, for all intents and purposes, their bed. And so he'd backed off quickly, kept the kiss short and chaste. She'd been simultaneously relieved and disappointed. It was written all over her face.

Bella would surely expect that things between them would slowly begin to move forward now, after the promises made between them. She likely _needed_ them to.

But he didn't have the first clue how to set the pace for that. And that responsibility — and it _was_ his responsibility to find a way to make it as easy as possible for her — was a very sobering one.

He'd tear off his own hand before he'd ever knowingly frighten her with his touch, but it was sort of inevitable that when they got to that point some day, it was going to be difficult. For both of them. Albert had made her say his _name_ when he violated her, look into a face identical to his own. How could either of them forget that?

He sighed heavily. None of that was what he needed to be worrying about at the moment. The sun would be up in less than two hours, and he would then have to take Bella off the secure Cullen property, face the frighteningly uncontrollable variables of a day at school, and then deliver her home to her well-meaning father who was completely incompetent to protect her.

And none of that was happening without a solid plan in place that _would_ protect her.

He drew a calming breath, ran his hands through his severely disheveled hair, and pushed thoughts of eventual intimacy with his mate to the very back of his mind. For the third time in five minutes.

"Esme," he murmured quietly, knowing his mother would hear him across the house. "Would you relieve Alice, please? I need her in Carlisle's office. Jasper, Rose, Emmett...could you join us too?"

_Of course. I'd be delighted to sit with Bella,_ he heard in his mind. Even the tenor of Esme's thoughts was warm and kind.

He stayed in his mother's mind, the soothing and calm place that it was, until she reached his room, until he caught sight of his beloved through her eyes. He didn't dare risk losing his focus by going near Bella, but a peek through Esme's eyes might at least soothe the aching void in his chest.

It had the opposite effect, filling him with even deeper longing.

Bella was curled up in a tight ball without him, her face not nearly so relaxed as it had been when she drifted off earlier — when he'd held her so securely in his arms, humming her lullaby, trying to tamp down the near-embarrassing purr in his chest. He'd given that up when she pressed her ear against the source of his purr and sighed contentedly, unknowingly locking his heart up even tighter in her grip.

It still amazed him, even in that moment. She wanted _him_ , exactly as he was. He didn't have to hide or constrain his true nature anymore. She accepted him, the man and the monster. She loved them both.

He could just be himself with her.

With that thought in mind, the secondhand sight of her through Esme's eyes nearly drove the breath from his lungs. God, how much he loved her. How much he _needed_ her.

And right behind that, a shot of fear pulsed through him.

He'd promised her he would find another way to save her. He'd promised not to take advantage of the only one he _had_ found, despite seven months of trying. And he would keep that promise. He wouldn't seek his own death to remove the target on Bella. He wouldn't do that to her — not now that he knew how it would hurt her to lose him.

But what if he couldn't find another way?

What if he fucking _couldn't?_

If anything else happened to her...God. He could barely think it.

He'd tear the world down, with his own two hands.

* * *

Three hours later, Bella sat buckled into the seat beside him in his Volvo, her hand reassuringly warm and solid in his own as he watchfully drove them to school.

It would be his first day back since he left for Brazil on Bella's birthday, nearly eight months earlier now. It would be Bella's first day since Albert attacked her.

And he wasn't sure she truly understood exactly how difficult that might be.

Rosalie and Emmett were in the Jeep directly in front of them, Alice and Jasper driving almost right on his bumper behind them. He figuratively kept one ear on Alice's mind, as she checked Bella's immediate future every few seconds, and his other ear on their surroundings.

He was less agitated than he'd expected, simply because he knew his family had his back — and Bella's.

He'd spent the first half of their strategy meeting during the night, in fact, trying to talk _Emmett_ off the damn ledge, instead of the other way around.

It was a somber group that had met in Carlisle's office, for the most part, aside from Emmett. Despite Edward's family's attempts not to intentionally listen to the details Bella shared with him in the cottage, they'd all heard more than enough. Bella was one of their own now, and someone had hurt her unspeakably. Most of them were quiet and subdued.

But to say Emmett was royally pissed off at what he'd heard would be an understatement. He'd readily accepted Bella as a baby sister from almost day one. Having it driven home that he could have saved her from the worst of it if he had found her just minutes earlier hadn't gone over well with him — nor had it ended well for several pieces of furniture.

Emmett's idea of strategy had been to run straight to Seattle right then and there and kill every fucking newborn vampire they could find — but only after doing whatever it took to drag the whereabouts of Albert and Victoria out of them, through any means necessary. And he couldn't understand why no one else saw the wisdom in that plan. Not even Carlisle had been able to talk him down, at first.

Honestly, if not for the existence of the shield, it had sounded like a pretty damn good idea to Edward too. But the shield, Thomas, complicated matters. Outnumbered was one thing, so long as Edward and Alice maintained the use of their gifts. Outnumbered, blind, and deaf was another thing entirely. And coming back to Bella in one piece wasn't optional — not anymore.

He couldn't let himself do something rash, react without thinking things through thoroughly. And he couldn't let Emmett, either — no matter how much it meant to him that his brother cared so much, that he accepted Bella as part of the family so completely.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Edward asked Bella as he drove, and not for the first time that morning. "Just because Charlie expects you home this afternoon, you don't necessarily have to start back to school today. You still have a couple more days left on your doctor's note, and Carlisle could even extend it."

Her voice was resolute enough, but he heard the hitch in her breath, felt the way she squeezed his hand a little more tightly for support. "I'd rather go ahead and get the first day over with. What if Charlie came to the school or something?"

He nodded his acceptance of her wishes, bringing her hand to his lips for just the briefest moment before he had to launch into a topic he'd dreaded. He'd put this off to the last possible moment, but if they were really going through with this, he needed to let Bella in on the plans for her own protection. It was necessary for her to understand the seriousness of following his instructions throughout the day and keeping her guard up.

"We'll take care of you, Bella," he began by assuring her. "Carlisle was able to get me back in all but two of your classes when he re-enrolled me, English and gym. He rearranged Emmett's schedule too, on the pretense of getting him into a different math class, so Emmett has gym with you now. I'll take you there myself, and he'll walk you back to me afterward. None of us will be in the room with you when you're in English, but Alice and I will be in the class right next door."

Her hand gripped his a little more tightly, her expression growing nervous at the idea of being alone. He rushed to reassure her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and gentling his voice.

"I don't like it either, but I can be there in less than a second. All you have to do is whisper my name if you need me for _anything,_ Bella, and I'll hear it. I'll come straight through the wall if I have to, and I'll worry about the repercussions later. My eyes will be on you at all times through others in the room."

She nodded, accepting that, though her voice wasn't steady. "Okay. As long as I know you're close, I'll be okay."

His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. After days of having her push him away, to hear her say things like that...God, she truly was going to be the death of him one day. His voice gentled even more, entirely of its own volition.

"Just pay attention to your surroundings. Don't walk away with anyone, no matter who it is, without me. Anything I say, just play along. And if I tell you to do something, I need you to just trust me and do as I ask. It will be for your safety only. Alice and Rose will go with you anytime you need to go to the restroom. Just let me know. And at lunch, you'll sit between me and Emmett, with Jasper across from you. I want one of us between you and the window too."

She was starting to look a little overwhelmed, so he left out the part about how he would personally be validating the identity of every student and teacher in every one of her classes through their thoughts, as well as making sure each one of his family members were who they purported to be when he left her with them — and that they would all be mentally testing _him_ when they returned her to him. Bella may not have thought of that possibility, so he didn't want to scare her. She looked worried enough.

"Okay," she nodded nervously. "What about after school? Charlie?"

"Carlisle and Esme are going to drop by the station unannounced and talk to him today. They're going to let him know I'm back in town and that I just started back to school today, so he shouldn't be overly surprised when I show up and knock on your door after Alice drives you home this afternoon. And beyond that, I'll be there with you every moment, whether you and Charlie can see me or not."

Bella exhaled sharply, a tiny little laugh but not with any humor. "He's not going to just let you in. He was pretty upset with you the last time he mentioned you."

He had no doubt of it. He also had no intentions of beating around the bush with Charlie about the fact that he didn't intend to be kept from Bella.

And that brought up another issue.

"Did you know Carlisle and Esme went and talked to him before?" he asked. "Right after I left?"

It was immediately clear she didn't, based on the look she was giving him. "They did what?"

"Charlie believes I left because of some issue with my birth family. I bring it up because when I show up this afternoon, he'll already know I was at school today. So he would expect you to know that story too."

Bella was staring at him, a look of betrayal in her eyes. "I can't believe he never told me about talking to them. He knew how desperate I was to hear _anything._ Why wouldn't he tell me that?"

Edward squeezed her hand. She didn't need to feel further alienated from her father. Bella needed all the support she could get, at the moment.

"He had his reasons, I'm sure," he soothed. "They may have implied there was some type of confidentiality issue, or he may have just assumed I told you when I called to say goodbye. But I'm sure he just didn't want to upset you by bringing it up."

Or Charlie hadn't wanted to get her hopes up that Edward might one day be able to return, which Edward had a feeling was the more likely possibility. But Bella had gone quiet, thinking it over, so he just let her process. What he wouldn't give to be able to hear her thoughts, though.

His phone rang right as he activated his blinker to pull into the school lot, breaking him free from his own musings. He scowled, mostly because he had to let go of Bella's hand to answer the call.

"Edward? Can you hear me?"

It was Alice, and she sounded panicked. He swiftly read her thoughts from the car just behind him and saw why — Bella's future had just abruptly disappeared.

"The shield must be close," Alice explained quickly, assuming Edward wouldn't be able to hear it in her thoughts if the shield was nearby. "Bella's future just disappeared."

Just before Edward could begin to panic himself, he scanned all the minds in close proximity — and immediately understood why Alice had just lost her vision while his gift was unaffected.

And then he said a word under his breath that he would never even consider using in front of Bella — at least not loudly enough for her to hear. At least not as a swear word, although there were other contexts where it might one day be acceptable.

"It's not the shield," he said through clenched teeth. "I can still hear you, Alice. You and Jasper get in my car with Bella as soon as I park, and _keep_ her here. I'll deal with this."

This was not what he needed right now, not when things with Bella were finally _right._

Jacob fucking Black was waiting for them. And he was about to ruin everything if Edward didn't intercept him first.

* * *

Slamming his door with a little too much force after he had slid out of the Volvo, with Jasper immediately replacing him in the driver's seat, Edward stalked toward the waiting Quileute boy.

Jacob stood near the school entrance at his full height, with his arms crossed, trying to look intimidating. Typically, that might have made Edward roll his eyes or even have amused him.

Not today.

Not when he'd just left a scared Bella in his car, calling after him and wanting to know what was going on.

Not when he hadn't dared take the time to stop and explain why he'd just instructed his siblings to hold her captive in his car.

Not when he didn't really have a great answer to that question anyway.

And especially not when he'd just heard her ask Alice and Jasper, "Wait, is that Jake? Why can't I just go talk to him?"

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

He'd known that his decisions on this particular issue would cause problems between them. He was neither stupidly naive nor ignorant. He simply didn't have a choice, if he wanted to protect his mate from a volatile young werewolf who could shred her into ribbons with one temper tantrum.

Which he most certainly _did_ want to do. Especially knowing, as he did, that that werewolf was in love with her.

What he wasn't entirely certain of was Bella's feelings for Jacob in return. Edward no longer questioned her bond to _him_ , but that didn't necessarily preclude her having feelings for another, either. She was still human, after all. He had no frame of reference for exactly how a bond of this type worked when one half of it was human, and neither did anyone else that he knew of.

Could she possibly bear some attraction to Jacob Black, in addition to her connection to her vampire mate?

Even worse, what if her bond to Edward was a completely involuntary one she had no choice in, while her free will chose Jacob?

It was a horrible thought. But he had listened on the phone, from Brazil, as she'd gone on and on about how much better the dog's mere presence made her feel, believing she was talking to Alice. He'd seen the easy physical interaction between the two of them after her attack, the way she'd clung to his hand, the way she'd allowed him to pick her up from that bathroom floor to carry her back to her bed without flinching — and at a point in time where Edward himself hadn't been able to get close enough to touch her.

There was certainly _something_ between them. He just wasn't sure what yet. It was the unknown, and the unknown was a potential threat.

Threats, to his monster's way of thinking, simply required elimination. Threats of _any_ kind.

And that wasn't a good thing, not when he'd just decided the night before to go full vampire with his mate. He hadn't had a chance yet to adjust, to figure out what that should look like, to achieve some kind of balance for the turbulent but instinctive emotions it brought out in him — especially the fierce possessiveness it entailed.

At the moment, he could scarcely bear the thought of another male _looking_ at her without wanting to do violence. And it would take him some time to readjust, to get a grip on that.

"You shouldn't be here, Jacob," he gritted out quietly, as he approached, mindful of all the innocent children who were already gathering around, staring. His own arrival back at school, especially with Bella in tow and securely attached to his hip, would be enough of a draw for the curious. Add in a confrontation with the boy who was well known to have replaced him as Bella's constant companion after he left, and this was the most interesting thing to happen at Forks High since Edward Cullen broke Bella Swan's heart and vanished into thin air. "I'm only going to say this once: Leave. Now."

_Fuck you, leech,_ he heard in his mind by way of reply.

So the feeling was mutual, apparently.

"I want to talk to Bella," Jacob insisted out loud, standing his ground. "I have orders to confirm she's unharmed."

Edward scoffed, his temper rising. He was reading Jacob's every thought, so he knew that part was true enough — but only because Jacob had whined and carried on until Sam Uley agreed to give him that order just to pacify him and shut him the hell up. His _real_ purpose was to make sure Bella knew Edward had been preventing him from contacting her, hoping to stir up problems between them.

And Jacob needed to keep his damn voice down, too. A few people had heard that last statement.

"She's fine," Edward hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm taking care of her now. She doesn't need you."

Jacob sarcastically applauded, giving him the slow clap, playing to the crowd. "Well, good for you. Better late than never, I guess."

Jacob _wanted_ the bystanders to hear, Edward realized through his utter fury. The mutt was putting on a show, trying to gain favor. Edward didn't understand the purpose of that, until he read the minds around them. Anyone who'd noticed Bella Swan slowly withering away seven months ago was thinking about it now, giving him a pretty good idea of what his absence had done to her from multiple perspectives.

The entire group were also all solidly on Jacob's side now, incidentally. That was very much secondary to the pain of seeing a withdrawn, gaunt, haggard Bella through fifteen or so different memories.

Edward pushed a little closer, didn't keep his voice down this time. Jacob wanted a show? Fine. He'd get one. No time like the present to make it very, very clear to the population of Forks High — translation, the _male_ population — that Bella Swan was irrevocably taken.

By him.

He could pull off cocky bastard. He was quite good at it, actually. Didn't even take much effort.

"It doesn't matter what you or anyone else thinks. Bella's made her choice. She made that choice clear last night, in fact." He smiled dangerously, dropped his tone a couple levels, injected a smirk into his voice. " _Very_ clear. So you're going to stay away from her."

There was a buzz of anticipation at that statement and what it implied, although he hadn't meant it to sound quite so overtly sexual in nature as the other students apparently took it. He nearly winced. He certainly hadn't meant to do damage to Bella's reputation, whether she or anyone else in this day and age cared one way or the other.

_He_ cared.

Nonetheless, the general and ridiculously gleeful consensus among their observers was that he had just scored a direct hit — or scored, in general — and that this was about to turn into a fist-fight. He'd earned some respect, at least, albeit by morally questionable means, in his opinion.

Not many of them thought he'd win, based on Jacob's size alone. If only they knew. He could crush Jacob like a bug, especially with the advantage of seeing his every thought.

The group conclusions weren't too far off about his _desire_ for a fight, though. The memory of listening to Jacob in his room with Bella for days on end was a strong one — as was the urge to break his arrogant face.

Jacob stepped closer, nearly nose to nose, and Edward's lip curled — both at his nearness and his odor. The dog had the audacity to grin.

He could be a cocky bastard too, apparently.

"You can't keep her from me forever. She's going to want to see me. And I'll be right there waiting when you slip up. I'll be there to save her when you're not. Again."

That was enough. That was much more than enough. Any patience Edward had started out with was obliterated.

"Get out of my face, Black," he sneered, his hands trembling with the effort it took to restrain himself. "Walk away while I'm still willing to give you the chance."

The gathering had attracted the attention of a couple staff members, by that point, and the crowd was starting to drift away as authority figures drew closer.

"Tell Bella I'll see her soon," Jacob grinned at him. And then he walked away.

* * *

"What was that about? Why did I have to stay here?"

The questions started the very second Edward opened his car door on Bella's side, at the same time that Jasper quickly slid out of the driver's seat and inhaled some fresh air after being sealed in with Bella. He tried to do it surreptitiously, but Edward noticed.

His family was going to need to hunt soon.

And so was he.

He held his hand out to help Bella from the car. After what she'd put him through for the previous few days, it still flooded him with relief when she put her hand in his immediately and without hesitation. She let him pull her from the car, straight into his arms, where he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

That kiss was to soothe him, honestly, at least as much as it was to soothe her.

"Everything's fine," he murmured into her skin, breathing her in deep. It burned like the fires of hell. It was also unbelievably calming. "We simply had some matters to discuss. The pack is helping keep watch for any sign of Albert or Victoria."

That last part wasn't a lie, exactly, although it wasn't one of the 'matters they discussed', at least not verbally. But he'd seen in Jacob's mind, when he threw that taunt at him about Bella not needing him anymore, that Jacob disagreed. The pack had increased patrols all along the border between Forks and La Push, looking for any sign of Bella's attackers. And a few of them, with Jacob as ringleader, had been kind of generous with that borderline, in the name of protecting Bella and Charlie Swan. They'd extended it almost straight into the backyard of her empty house, in fact. And Sam, while not exactly complicit, had turned a blind eye.

Charlie was pretty popular among many of the Quileute, thanks to his long friendship with Billy Black. Popular enough to merit protection not usually afforded someone outside the tribe. And Bella, apparently, was even more 'popular' with several of the newer wolves — something that didn't sit well with her vampire mate.

It did little to change his decision about keeping her away from them. That was for sure.

"Is that all?" Bella quizzed him, looking up at him intently. "You seemed pretty mad when you left."

_Shit._

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just hated the thought of leaving you alone for even a moment."

Her brow furrowed. "It was just Jake, right? You could have taken me with you."

"We should get to class," he changed the topic quickly. "You're still sure you want to do this?"

She held him just a little more tightly for a moment before she pulled away, her focus changing instantly to what lay ahead. "Yeah. I think so."

* * *

Returning to school had helped Bella once before, right after her ordeal with James. It had helped take her mind off of things, given her a routine, dulled at least part of the worries and insecurities that had plagued her even then — worries that Edward would someday disappear out of her life without warning, as he indeed eventually did. Almost like she had sensed it, had premonitions of it.

But this time, school didn't help. At all.

Everything was too loud, moving too fast, and it all seemed to be coming right at her — especially her friends she had only recently resumed speaking to in the last few weeks before her attack.

Angela, Jessica.

Tyler. Eric.

Mike. Overeager, over-friendly, handsy _Mike._

She walked through the front doors, clutching Edward's hand like a lifeline. He felt like the only steady thing in the entire swirling vortex of _movement_ around her. She couldn't watch it all at once, keep track of where everything and everybody was, and it made it hard to think. Hard to _breathe._

There were hugs. She lost track of how many and from whom. She only knew they were one-handed hugs on her part, because Edward didn't let go of her other hand the whole time, standing so close she could feel the cold coming off of him as he monitored her reactions closely.

And she was very, very glad about that. The hugs were suffocating, especially Mike's, which to her relief was over with surprising abruptness. It was still all she could do to keep her composure. Edward's touch kept her grounded.

There were questions. They ranged from the well-meaning (Angela), to the curious (Tyler and Eric), to the snide (Jessica), to the skin-crawling (Mike).

_Are you okay? Are you still contagious? Did your house really burn down? So are you and Edward, like, back together or something? Are you going to be in gym with me today? Is he going to be there?_

She had no idea what she said to most of those. She wasn't sure if her answers even made sense. She only knew that it happened in kind of a blur, and next thing she knew, she was being firmly ushered away toward homeroom with Edward's arm wrapped securely around her waist like a shield.

And she could breathe again.

He touched her as much as he could, even in class — a knee against hers when they shared a two-person table in chemistry, his fingers lightly touching her back when he sat in a desk directly behind her in math, even the frequent smiles and near-physical touch of his gaze to hers when he had to sit across the aisle from her in history, letting her know he was _right there_ and his only focus was her _._

It was overwhelmingly reassuring, his touch. For all that she had originally been unsure about it any time they were alone right after her attack, now that she was surrounded on every side with curious onlookers and people staring at her, fighting the irrational fear that danger was coming at her from every direction, she couldn't have survived without being in contact with him. Edward was her safe place. And he seemed to understand that.

That very morning, when she awoke and immediately remembered the things she'd told him earlier in the night, her first impulse had been to turn away out of his arms, hide her blushing face in embarrassment in the harsh light of day. But Edward hadn't let her. He'd meant that promise not to let her run from him anymore, apparently. And moments later, after he firmly pulled her back into his embrace, positioning them so they were lying on their sides, face-to-face, he whispered in her ear that everything was still okay and he loved her more than he ever had. He kissed her cheek adoringly.

When he pulled back to make eye contact, his heart showing in his eyes, her gaze had near immediately dropped to his mouth as her heart skipped a beat.

And then his lips had been on hers.

It was the most heated kiss they'd shared since his return, even their first one just a few hours earlier, when she'd thrown herself at him as a last desperate attempt to avoid talking to him. That kiss he had quickly slowed down. This one he had quickly heated up, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue and boldly seeking entrance. She was fairly certain he'd been hard, especially when she very eagerly responded to his kiss, because his hands firmly around her waist had insistently kept some distance between them.

Her heart had raced at that realization that he was aroused, and she couldn't say it was entirely all in a good way. Nonetheless, she hadn't wanted to stop kissing him. She hadn't wanted _him_ to stop. He had, though, all too soon — though his eyes had been a shade of dark she hadn't seen in a very long time.

He wasn't the only one. She'd experienced the first rush of true arousal she'd really felt since what happened to her. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with self-doubt about her ability to carry through, but it had been there. It had happened.

She didn't hear a word the teachers said in any of her classes all morning. Her thoughts were all of Edward. She idly wondered if things would be different, were they both human — if it weren't for that mating bond that she still didn't fully understand. Would she be able to touch him at all? Was it only the gravitational pull of their bond which still drew her to Edward physically, which made her body still want things her mind now shied away from?

Or was it simply Edward himself?

Either way, it was powerful. Powerful enough that sometimes it felt like she was drowning in it, like she might lose herself in him.

But there was no question that drowning in his presence was far preferable to drowning in his absence. She'd experienced both.

* * *

Mike Newton was in grave danger of losing a limb before the day ended.

It had been painful watching Bella quickly become overwhelmed when her human friends rushed her, most of them well-meaning, although Edward briefly considered snapping Jessica Stanley's neck for her malicious musings on why the 'stupid mono' couldn't have just 'finished Bella off' so that he wouldn't again be 'wasting his time' with someone as 'plain' as her.

He wouldn't have _done_ it, of course. But he'd entertained that satisfying thought a few seconds longer than he really should have.

He'd forgotten all about it, though, when Bella's heart raced in sudden panic — the very moment Mike Newton reached out and yanked her into a too-aggressive hug.

Her eyes had flown to him like she was asking for help. And he'd just reacted. That had been a very brief hug. It'd been all he could do to resist throwing Mike right through the row of lockers behind him. Newton was almost certainly nursing a nasty bruise on his shoulder from where Edward's free hand had automatically shot out and clamped down none too gently to yank him off of Bella. The moron had opened his mouth to protest, but he had backed down to Edward's cold and menacing glare.

Hence Mike's pouting questions about whether or not Bella would be in gym with him, and whether or not Edward would have that class with them.

Jesus. Did the imbecile have a death wish? Edward would be happy to grant it. He just might, if he put another unwanted hand on Bella and made this day any harder for her than it already was.

* * *

Once classes began, the day went as smoothly as Edward could have realistically expected, right up until Bella's last two classes: English and gym.

The two they didn't have together.

He delivered her to just outside the door of her English class, mentally scanning the room and all the minds around him. No sign of danger. That didn't matter. He wouldn't relax again until he had her back in his arms.

He quickly kissed her on the forehead only, because there was no shortage of eyes on them the entire day — including teaching staff — and whispered in her ear.

"I'll be right next door. So will Alice. If you need me, Bella, just whisper my name and I'll be here. It doesn't matter why. You hear me?"

She nodded against him, her hands bunching up the sides of his t-shirt in her fists. "Okay."

The fear in her eyes gave him pause. He knew it had little to do with Albert.

The last time he dropped her off in a class alone, which had been on her birthday no less, she hadn't seen him for seven months.

He got it now. After last night, he finally got it.

His hand came up to cup her cheek. "I'm coming back, sweetheart. I'll always come back for you."

That earned him a tiny smile that warmed his heart. "You better."

She was trying to sound brave, but he knew better.

To hell with what anyone thought, including faculty. He leaned in and gently kissed her lips for an all-too-brief second. "Count on it."

* * *

To say he was on edge throughout the entire class period away from Bella was putting it mildly.

It got worse near the end, when Bella's teacher started pairing the students off in twos to work on some questions. And Jessica Stanley made a beeline for Bella to partner with her.

"So?" the girl whispered conspiratorially, the moment she sat down, her voice full of implication.

Edward nearly kept that promise to go right through the wall when he read Jessica's mind and realized exactly what she intended to question Bella about. If not for Alice kicking the back of his chair none too gently, and her stern mental voice advising him to stay put or he'd only make things worse, he might have.

"So, what?" Bella replied, sounding a little put out. Her face, through Jessica's mind, was equally annoyed. She'd had a long day already, and it was clearly wearing on her.

"What was it like?" Jessica whispered, her face friendly enough, but her thoughts full of bitter jealousy.

Bella paled, likely fearing the worst — that people _knew._ Edward looked on helplessly. After the scene he'd made that morning and his unwitting implication, this was almost bound to happen. But it couldn't happen with a worse person than Jessica Stanley.

He should have warned Bella about what happened with Jacob that morning and how the student body had perceived his possessive statement. His reasons for not doing so were undeniably selfish.

Simply put, he just hadn't wanted her to be mad at him. He'd wanted to delay the inevitable a while longer.

And that decision was now coming back on Bella.

"What was _what_ like?" Bella replied quietly...a little fearfully.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Jessica stage-whispered. "Sex. With Edward Cullen."

Edward's eyes closed, knowing exactly where _that_ misapprehension had come from, but he could still see Bella's shocked face through Jessica's mind. She'd lost _all_ color now.

He had to stop this. Of all topics Bella didn't really need to have thrown in her face on her first day back after what Albert did to her, sex with _him_ was at the very top of that list.

_It's going to be okay, Edward_ , Alice told him when he tensed, making a snap decision to intervene and damn the consequences. _Give her some credit._ _She can handle Jessica Stanley._

"What — what are you talking about?" Bella whispered back.

Jessica scoffed, annoyed. "Oh, please. He already told everybody that you guys did it last night. So spill. Details."

Bella's face was suddenly more confused than frightened. "Edward said that? When?"

"This morning, when he was talking to that kid from La Push. Don't even try to deny it. _Everybody_ heard them."

Edward grit his teeth. Jessica hadn't even been standing anywhere close when it happened, but clearly, the rumor mill was running at full capacity.

Bella's eyes widened dramatically, and Edward was mortified. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze dropping down to her desk. But then she completely shocked the hell out of him, planting a fake smile on her face. A very fake smile.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Um, it was great. Really good."

Jessica nearly fell out of her chair at that awkward confirmation. "That's it? _Really good_? You've got to give me more than that."

Bella's face was the brightest red he'd ever seen. She was extremely uncomfortable, and the fact she knew he was listening to every word probably didn't help, all things considered.

"I — I really shouldn't say anything."

Jessica smirked. "That small, huh?" _I knew it. He's just too perfect. There had to be something wrong with him. Serves her right._

Edward paid no attention to Jessica's insipid mind. He was reeling. _Why?_ Why would Bella confirm such a rumor about them? All she had to say was that it wasn't true. Word would have spread throughout the school by the end of the next period that Edward Cullen was a liar. _He'd_ be the one to look bad, and Bella Swan's reputation would be intact.

Fortunately, the teacher chose that moment to remind Bella's class they only had ten minutes left to complete the assignment and that they should focus on their work, sternly glaring at Jessica as he did so, and that put an end to that.

Edward was out of his seat one second before the bell rang, already starting for the door.

* * *

Bella didn't exactly want to meet his eyes when she encountered him right at the door to her classroom, and it did nothing to make him feel better.

"So I guess you heard that?" she asked him, as he took her hand and pulled her out into the hallway, right into a small alcove by the lockers that afforded them at least a small amount of privacy. She blushed red again when he immediately tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. And she fidgeted. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was supposed to say."

"Why did you go along with her?" he blurted out the question that was consuming him, her words barely registering.

Bella's brows pulled together in confusion. "She said _you_ were the one who said it, that everybody heard it. And you told me to play along with anything you said today. I thought...I just thought it was part of the plan and you'd explain it later."

Edward's eyes closed in painful understanding. She had gone along with it in an attempt to comply with his instructions. Because she _trusted_ him.

He sighed, not opening his eyes, his expression pained. "It was a miscommunication. That wasn't what I said or meant, at all, but a few people heard it that way. I'm so sorry, Bella. I wanted to make this day _easier_ for you, not harder."

Bella's hand on his cheek startled him, brought his eyes back to her. She looked _concerned_ for him, and it was like twisting a knife in his heart because he knew he didn't deserve it.

"It's okay," she said softly. "I don't care what anybody thinks. I was actually kind of relieved. For a minute there, I thought..."

She trailed off, biting her lip and looking away

"You thought she knew what happened to you," he finished quietly. "I know." She looked up at him sharply, and he gave her a small smile, correctly interpreting the question in her eyes. "I still can't read your mind. At least, not the traditional way. But I'm learning."

It was her who stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him that time, soothing the tight ball of worry in the pit of his stomach. "I need to get to gym," she said regretfully, when she pulled back all too soon.

"Alice has your clothes to dress out," he told her, fighting the urge to pull her back to him and try to kiss the memory of what he'd done right off of his conscience. "She and Rosalie are going to meet us beside the restrooms so you can get changed before I drop you off with Emmett."

He still felt guilty, and it must have been written all over his face. Bella wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek against his chest and squeezed him tightly.

"Stop worrying," she told him sternly. "I'll be okay."

She took his hand to start pulling him toward the bathrooms where they were supposed to meet his sisters, and he honestly couldn't believe his luck. She was letting the whole thing go without further questioning him about what really happened with Jacob.

That should make him feel better. It didn't. Because he knew the only reason she did was that she trusted him implicitly.

And he didn't know if that would change when she inevitably found out about the letters and phone calls he'd hidden from her. And, of course, his firm intention to continue keeping the two of them far apart.

* * *

His worries about being away from Bella for gym class were somewhat soothed when they turned the corner to find Emmett waiting for them.

He was already dressed out for gym too, standing near the doorway with his arms crossed. He just _looked_ like a bodyguard. Everyone entering and exiting gave him a wide berth, without really understanding why.

But his face split into a welcoming grin when he saw the two of them coming, his entire expression changing instantly to a far less threatening one.

Bella was going to be just fine with Emmett there. He wouldn't let anyone near her, and he'd do his level best not to freak her out in the process. Edward could see in his thoughts that that was the plan.

"Bella! Ready to kick some ass?" Emmett's grin was infectious. Bella couldn't help smiling back at him, shaking her head. Her nervous tension that Edward had felt steadily growing on the entire walk to the gym was now dissipating.

"Definitely not," she answered in a wry tone, but she was still smiling.

Emmett made a show of holding out his arm for her to take like an old-world gentleman, his very best Edward impression. "Too bad. You're on my team, so you don't have a choice. We _will_ kick ass."

Edward rolled his eyes as Bella took Emmett's arm, seeming comfortable enough with him. "Language, Emmett."

"Pussy, Edward," his brother shot back. "Stop being one. You ready, Bella?"

Edward wasn't really sure how he felt about the fact that that had made Bella giggle, but ended up deciding he was just glad to hear it.

_Get out of here, bro,_ Emmett ordered in his mind. _I'll take care of her._

Edward hesitated. "Mike Newton..." he cautioned quickly, too low for Bella to hear.

_Will have to go through me first. He's a pussy too._

* * *

Under Emmett's watchful eye and continual amusing antics, gym class actually drew several smiles out of Bella — all of which Edward saw, considering he was camped out in Emmett's mind for the duration of the class period and Emmett always kept her in sight.

His brother never strayed far from her side but managed not to smother her, either. And he didn't let Mike Newton anywhere near her. He even made sure Newton took a volleyball to the side of the head, at one point, just for having the audacity to try. That actually drew a smile from Edward too, one he had to hide in his textbook.

Nonetheless, he was just starting to feel a little perturbed about the fact that Emmett had made her smile and laugh more times in one class period than he'd personally managed on his own in days, when Emmett and Bella came around the corner to the deserted hallway where he was waiting to pick her up.

She was already laughing at Emmett's ridiculous imitation of Newton's volleyball moves, which was exactly why he was doing it.

Her eyes still lit up when she saw Edward.

And everything was right in his world again.

"Edward!" She moved to step away from Emmett and rush over to Edward, but Emmett stuck his arm in front of her waist and blocked her.

"Hang on. Just give me a second."

Bella's smile faded, her eyes going back and forth between them in alarm, so Edward quickly explained in his calmest voice.

"He's just going to make sure I'm me. It's all part of the plan. He's going to ask me a question in his mind. Now that you're aware of what's going on, I'll answer loud enough so you can hear too. Emmett will confirm for you that my answer matches his question."

She relaxed. At least a little. But it was clear she had never considered the need for that, and that it made her nervous.

_What's my favorite sexual position...and coincidentally, my favorite number?_ Emmett thought in his direction, and Edward rolled his eyes. It was definitely not the day for this.

"Dumbass," he muttered, where only Emmett could hear him. "Try again."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Emmett spoke out loud, cupping his ear like he couldn't hear either, and winked down at Bella so she wouldn't worry. He already knew by that reaction that Edward was Edward. Now he just couldn't resist messing with him a little.

"Just ask me something I can answer in front of Bella," Edward said out loud, with what he felt was near saintly levels of patience.

"Why? What'd he ask you?" Bella asked curiously. And Emmett, to Edward's abject horror, maddeningly opened his mouth to tell her.

"Nothing," Edward growled quickly, glaring at Emmett.

Bella actually looked amused. "Oh. Got it."

Emmett grinned. _She's more fun than you are._ _Maybe she'll help you pull that stick out of your ass one day — if you ever let her touch your ass, that is. What number am I thinking of now?_

Oh, for the love of...

"96," Edward gave in and just answered, mostly so he could hurry up and get his mate back.

_Exactly. Because you do everything ass-backwards._ Emmett was really amused by himself. "Go on, Bella. It's him. Think you can make it the last five steps without tripping over anything?"

She swatted Emmett's arm with the back of her hand. "Don't forget I'll be able to beat you up someday."

Three and a half seconds later, she was back in Edward's arms, with no idea how much his heart had just swelled at that offhanded confirmation that she still wanted to be changed, eventually. It wasn't something they had discussed recently. She hadn't said much about it ever since he returned, and he hadn't pushed. He'd been a little worried about the answer.

He was going to learn one day not to underestimate her. He really was. But at least it looked like he would have eternity to do it.

* * *

Watching and listening from the woods as Alice pulled into Bella's driveway and walked Bella to her door was torture. Every muscle in Edward's body was tense. Having Bella out in the open with only tiny little Alice at her side to protect her was quickly driving him insane — even if he himself couldn't do better than a tie in any contest with Alice.

Jasper had driven Edward's car home from school for him and would be going hunting, at Edward's insistence. Edward had ridden in Alice's car with Alice and Bella, sitting in the backseat. She dropped him off a few blocks from the house, and he ran the rest of the way, positioning himself outside the Swan home where he could see and hear everything. Emmett would be meeting him there any moment, to take the first shift on the protection detail outside Bella's home.

After returning Bella to Charlie, Alice would take her own car home, and then she would drive Edward's car back and give it to him just down the street. She would join Emmett in the woods, keeping an eye on the house.

And then, at some point during the evening, Edward would knock on the door and try to make amends with Charlie Swan.

That last part wasn't going to be easy.

Edward could hear Charlie's thoughts inside the house, worrying about Bella. The man was agitated and restless after meeting with Carlisle and Esme earlier that day, learning that Edward had arrived back in town just in time for school that morning. He was worried about what kind of Bella he would be getting back if she had been blindsided at school by the unexpected return of her ex-boyfriend.

Would Alice be dropping off the even-keeled Bella who had originally come to live with him, the one who was entirely too much like him? That seemed too much to hope for. He was terrified he would get back the heartbroken, devastated shell of his daughter he had lived with for months after Edward Cullen abruptly deserted her. He would even prefer the still morose but slightly happier Bella she had become after she started spending time with Jacob Black, who he was fairly certain was a saint.

His ruminations about encouraging Bella to spend more time with Jake, hopefully keeping her far away from Edward Cullen, set Edward's teeth on edge. Charlie was even considering a move out to La Push, transferring Bella out of Forks High, as Billy Black had generously suggested and offered to help facilitate. It would be a long commute, but worth it to keep Bella from going through any more pain.

Edward didn't even try to suppress the jealous snarl that ripped out of his throat at that idea. Charlie could make all the plans he wanted to about pushing Jacob and Bella together and/or taking Bella away to La Push and out of Edward's reach. Those plans would come to fruition over his cold, dead ashes. He'd take off with her so fast everybody's heads would spin.

He was not going to mince words with Charlie about that, either. If apologies and amends didn't work, he intended to get very direct, very quickly.

No one was taking his mate from him against her will. Not even her own father. It simply wasn't happening.

Charlie was watching intently out the window as Alice and Bella walked up to the front door arm-in-arm, Alice putting on a good show for Charlie's sake by giggling like a schoolgirl. It did what it was intended to do. Charlie was appeased by it, believing Bella to be having fun with Alice. He thought that although she looked a little thinner than when he last saw her, there was some color in Bella's cheeks. She seemed happy enough. He saw nothing to validate his deepest fears.

He threw the door open, not fully able to suppress the grin on his face as the two girls walked inside.

"Hey, kiddo, welcome home! Alice, good to see you too, kid."

Bella's smile, which Edward could see through both Charlie's and Alice's minds, was genuine. "Hey, Dad. I missed you."

Charlie pulled her into a tight hug, and Edward held his breath outside. He'd worried about this, after seeing her tense reactions to the hugs she'd received at school that morning. And that had been with Edward right by her side, supporting her. Bella wouldn't forgive herself if she reacted badly to her dad's embrace and somehow tipped him off that something had happened to her. Charlie wasn't stupid, after all, and he'd been in law enforcement a long, long time.

But Bella hugged her father warmly. And Alice, God bless her, only let it continue for a short moment before she chirped out an enthusiastic, "Do I get one of those too?"

Charlie chuckled, the soft spot he held for Alice evident in his weathered features. He let go of Bella to give Alice an awkward side-armed squeeze. "Of course, kid. How have you been, Alice?"

" _So_ good!" Alice enthused. "Bella and I have had _so_ much fun! I'm so glad you let her come and stay with me."

More of Charlie's suspicions melted. Alice had him wrapped around her little finger. "It was good of you all to take her in. Things were pretty cramped at Billy's, especially when Jacob was there. I really don't know where we would have put her."

_Especially when Jacob was there,_ Charlie repeated in his mind wryly, and Edward bit out a harsh chuckle.

He and Charlie were finally in agreement on something. Jacob Black had no business being under the same roof with Charlie's daughter overnight, no matter how much Charlie adored him.

Alice beamed happily _._ "Oh, it was no trouble. Bella's family now."

Charlie's eyes narrowed.

"Speaking of family," he began carefully, trying to make it conversational, "I heard your brother was back in town."

He watched both girls carefully, looking for any indication that he'd been lied to and Edward had been in town longer than Carlisle and Esme let on — like maybe living under the same roof as Bella. Or in the same room.

Poor Charlie. He had no idea that Alice could see the future and had been ready for him the moment the decision to ask formed in his mind.

Her eyes lit up happily. "Yes, sir! He just got back this morning. I saw him the first time at school today. We're _so_ glad to have him back. We all really missed him." She dropped her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, like she was letting Charlie in on a juicy secret. "But I think _he_ mostly just missed Bella. I heard he was a big depressive stick in the mud the whole time he was gone."

He couldn't quite bring himself to scowl, not at Alice Cullen. But it surprised Charlie somewhat to hear that Edward might have struggled too. He'd pictured him off somewhere living it up while Bella suffered.

"Is that so?" he asked, rubbing his chin. "Well, I'm happy for you, honey. I know what it's like to miss family when they're gone." His eyes went straight to Bella, his thoughts undeniably sad. Bella had been gone for months on end, the man mused, despite being under the same roof with him. Edward Cullen had all but killed her. And he couldn't let it happen again.

"Yes, sir," Alice replied politely.

"Did you want to stay for dinner, Alice?" Charlie invited warmly. If the girl had worked some kind of magic that made Bella seem relaxed and normal even with Edward Cullen back in town, then the more she was around, the better.

"No sir, but thank you. My mom's expecting me home."

"Well, you're welcome anytime. Don't be a stranger."

Alice gave him her best dazzling smile. "I won't. Bye, Mr. Swan."

"Bye, kid. Bells, why don't you say goodbye to Alice and then meet me in the kitchen? I started dinner so you wouldn't have to, but I thought we could finish it together. You haven't seen the new kitchen yet. I'll show you how everything works."

When Charlie was out of the room, Edward was surprised when Alice suddenly turned Bella to face her, her expression serious.

"Listen. I'm going, but try to keep in mind that every single thing my brother does is only because he loves you and can't bear the thought of losing you. Even the stupid stuff. Okay?"

Edward's brow furrowed at the same time Bella's did, feeling as confused as Bella looked in Alice's mind. What the hell was that about? He'd been so focused on grabbing every thought from Charlie's abnormally difficult-to-read mind that he hadn't been paying much attention to Alice's, other than when his only view of Bella was through her eyes. What had she seen that he missed?

"Alice, what are you talking about?" Bella asked the same question Edward was thinking. "I'm not mad at him for anything. Wait... am I _going_ to be mad at him?"

Alice sighed and then just finished her point. "You're his mate. It's not just that he _wants_ to protect you. If he believes you're in danger, of any kind, he can't _not_ protect you. Keeping you safe is kind of a _need_ _._ So just...hear him out. He'll be here with you just as soon as he can."

Alice left a bewildered-looking Bella and made a beeline for her car. She sped away, in a rush to retrieve Edward's car and bring it back to him, since he really couldn't knock on Bella's door until she did. At least not without Charlie wondering where the hell he had come from. But Alice did make an attempt at explanation mentally.

_I told you it was stupid not to just let her speak to the mutt when he kept calling. I can see she's going to be really upset with you tonight about what you did, but I can't see how she finds out. So that probably means Jacob manages to tell her somehow. It might not be a pleasant night, but I see you working it out. Eventually._

That wasn't completely reassuring, but it could be worse too. It wasn't like he didn't already know there was a disagreement coming over Jacob. He'd known that for quite some time.

* * *

Until Alice got back, Edward stood beside a recently arrived Emmett as the two of them guarded the house, listening to Charlie and Bella inside.

It was mostly uneventful. Charlie showed her around the new kitchen, helped her cook dinner because he wanted to spend some time with her. He asked questions about school and about her time at the Cullens _— didn't they ever feed you_ , which made Emmett snort and Edward roll his eyes, because Esme had done little else — and he told her all about the pitfalls of living with Billy Black in a tiny house for weeks, which Bella seemed to find amusing.

It was probably the most words Charlie Swan had said at one time in fifteen years. He'd really missed his daughter fiercely. And he'd worried about her even more fiercely. His daily two-minute phone calls with her hadn't been enough.

The topic of Edward didn't come up, other than when Charlie focused on her a little too intently at one point, his mind fixated on Edward being back in town, and asked, "Are you really okay, kid?"

She assured him she was, and Charlie dropped it, for the time being. Out of sight, out of mind, he figured — which was where he sincerely hoped Edward Cullen would stay.

Charlie was going to be in for a disappointment on that one, because Edward had no intentions of going anywhere ever again. Although he did decide, since things seemed to be going smoothly between Bella and her father, that he would text Alice and tell her to wait a few blocks away with his car until after the Swans were finished with dinner. It could only do Bella good to spend some quality time with her dad.

Still, by the time they'd finished eating, Edward could barely stand still with anticipation of seeing her again. Hearing her voice from outside and seeing her through Charlie's sometimes blurry thoughts wasn't nearly enough. He needed her close.

He was on his way to retrieve his car from Alice around the corner, still keeping one mental eye on the Swan kitchen, when Charlie cleared his throat and reached out his hand to stop Bella when she made a grab for his plate to take it to the sink.

"Listen, Bells...I'll make a deal with you. I'll do the dishes if you'll give Jacob a call. Kid's pestered me about 200 times since I got here last night, wanting to get in touch with you. I know you've been busy with Alice, but Jake's really missed you. He's been antsy for better than a week now, worrying about you. I hope you don't plan to forget about him now that...well, now that you're doing better."

_Uh-oh_ , thought Emmett, still stationed outside the house. _This isn't good._

Edward sighed impatiently and jumped into the driver's seat the moment Alice vacated it. He didn't need Emmett to tell him what he already knew.

"She's still not a vampire, Edward," Alice cautioned him against any possessive outburst as he slammed the door and cranked up the engine. "She's not going to completely understand how you feel about this."

But his mind was still on what was happening in the Swan kitchen. Specifically, the fact that Bella had very nearly just slipped up and said more than she meant to.

"But Jacob knew exactly where I was. He was there with — I mean...I mean, you _told_ him where I was, right? He could have just called me."

Charlie sighed, not wanting to get into what he still considered to be a ridiculous and unexplained bias the Blacks seemed to have against the Cullens. Even if he personally agreed on the topic of _Edward_ Cullen.

"Just call him, okay? Make some plans with him or something. Go see him in La Push. Invite him over here. I don't know. Just remember he was there for you when you needed him. Don't make him feel...well, the way Edward made _you_ feel."

Bella nodded slowly, a very guilty look on her face, while Edward seethed at watching her be manipulated. He mashed the accelerator down harder.

"You're right, Dad. I'll call him, okay?"

A feeling of satisfaction spread through Charlie. Even if Edward Cullen came sniffing around again, he at least deserved to have some competition, the man felt. And maybe he'd even lose.

"That dishes deal is only good if you call him now," Charlie nudged.

Bella rolled her eyes affectionately, shaking her head. "Fine, Dad. You win. I'll call him right now. You sure you can handle this?"

Charlie waved her off. "Go. I've got it. I actually do know how to take care of myself, you know."

"Not well," Bella shot back, sounding very much like her old self. "Have you eaten even one green thing since I've been gone?"

Despite the disaster getting ready to take place if he didn't get there in time to prevent that phone call, Edward's mood softened somewhat at that. Being home was good for her, it seemed, the normalcy of having someone to look out for — his opinions about Bella always being forced into the parent role notwithstanding.

Charlie scratched sheepishly at his ear. "Does moldy bread count?"

Bella stared at him, mildly amused, and crossed her arms. "Wow. Okay, I'm taking over the cooking again. And the shopping."

Edward grit his teeth. No, she wasn't, actually. Not the shopping, anyway. Or anything else that took her out in public unnecessarily, until this was over.

And he would get to be the bad guy for that too, he had a feeling. And he would stand his ground on it anyway.

He didn't bother with human speed as he parked in her driveway and near immediately materialized on the front porch, rapping his knuckles against the door with a bit too much force.

Charlie looked up sharply at the aggressive pounding, his mind going back to the reason he'd wanted Bella home to start with — somewhere out there, there was a murderer who'd raped and killed a girl that looked disturbingly like his daughter, just two towns over.

"I'll get it, Bells. Stay here, okay?"

Bella's heartrate sped up frantically, and Edward hoped it was because she knew it was him at the door, and not because she was having similar thoughts as her father — with the full knowledge that there _was_ someone terrifying after her.

Surely she knew he'd been out there protecting her the whole time, that he would never allow trouble to simply walk up and knock on her door.

She did know that, didn't she?

Another one of those times he truly wished he could read her mind.

* * *

To say Charlie was displeased to see Edward Cullen darkening his doorway didn't fully describe the man's reaction. He opened the door, went still, and stared blankly at Edward for a full three seconds.

"Chief Swan," Edward greeted him politely.

And that snapped Charlie out of it. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Bella wasn't in view, then stuck one of his big hands out and planted it right in the middle of Edward's chest as he stepped forward. Edward let himself be moved backward, and Charlie followed him out onto the porch, closing the door quietly behind himself.

"No," Charlie started firmly, his voice hushed to keep Bella from hearing. "I'm sorry, kid, but I don't want to hear it. I don't care what your reasons were. I don't want you here."

Edward stayed calm. "I'd like the chance to explain, sir."

But Charlie's eyes were furious. "I said no. You have no idea what you put that girl through when you left her and only called one time. I'm not watching her go through that again, not ever. Get off my property and don't come back. Stay away from my daughter."

"I can't do that, Chief Swan," Edward said as respectfully as possible, trying not to visibly react to the heartbreaking images in Charlie's mind of Bella waking up at night, screaming his name, no matter how much of a kick to the gut it was. "I'm actually here to apologize to _you_ , sir. I've already spoken with Bella. She understands why I left, and she's chosen to forgive me. I owe you both every apology there is, and I'm willing to repeat them as many times as it takes. But I love your daughter, and she loves me. I'm not going to stay away from her unless _she_ tells me to."

Charlie didn't lose his temper. He crossed his arms and got quiet. His tone stayed low. "You _will_ stay away from her as long as she's under _my_ roof. Now, I told you you're not welcome here. You can leave right now, or I'll arrest you for trespassing. Your choice."

"Dad?" At some point during all that, Bella had quietly approached the door and cracked it open to see what was going on. Edward had known she was there, of course. Charlie hadn't.

When she threw the door the rest of the way open, the angry hurt in her eyes was concerning — and Edward could see exactly how volatile and close to the edge she was at the moment, something that she had likely been fighting all day at school.

"What are you doing?" she asked Charlie, sounding horrified. "You're threatening to _arrest_ him? He was trying to apologize."

Edward eyed the way she was trembling with wrath, her fists clenched at her sides. Maybe she couldn't fight any of the other forces teamed up against her, and she definitely had disturbingly little control over her own life at the moment. But this was one battle she must have felt she could actually fight for herself, and it was clear to Edward that she was about to unload on Charlie if he couldn't find a way to calm her down. He wished he'd brought Jasper along instead of Emmett.

Charlie sighed, hands going to his hips, glaring at Edward like _this_ was his fault too. "Go inside, Bella."

"No!"

Edward raised an eyebrow. At least he wasn't the only one she didn't listen to.

"I can't believe you would do this," Bella went on, her eyes filling up with angry tears. "You _know_ how much I missed him. You would have told him to leave and not even let me _see_ him? This is what you would have done if he had ever come back when I wasn't home?"

"At first?" Charlie shot back, defensive, turning to face his daughter, his own eyes full of hurt now. "No, Bells, I wouldn't have. I'd have tracked him down for you myself if I could have. But after months of no contact? Yeah, I sure as hell would have shown him the door, because if he loved you like he says he does, he never would have done that to you!"

The man felt legitimately hurt, Edward saw in his mind. He'd done everything he could to protect his daughter, to help her through what _Edward Cullen_ had done to her. And it was _him_ she was mad at? While she defended Edward?

The look of betrayal in Bella's eyes was even more painful to see than the one in Charlie's. And it was the very last thing she needed right then.

"Bella, your father is only trying to protect you," Edward spoke up quietly, trying to defuse the situation. "I certainly can't fault him for that."

But after everything she'd been through that day, everything she'd tolerated and maintained her composure through the entire day at school, this was just the final straw.

"I don't care!" Bella shouted, so mad she was shaking. She turned on Charlie. "If Edward's not welcome under your roof, Dad, then maybe I don't belong here either!"

Charlie looked stunned, his heart breaking. "What are you saying, Bella? You'd just leave home for good? With _him_?" His angry gaze turned on Edward.

Edward made a quick decision. Bella needed her father, certainly, but she needed her mate more. She needed to feel like somebody was on her side, and she needed it to be him. He could try to help her make amends with Charlie later. But his allegiances lay with Bella, not Charlie Swan. Her leaving home wasn't even close to the plan, but he'd back her up on it — ignoring the fact that having her all to himself was a wildly appealing idea.

"I would prefer your blessing," Edward spoke to Charlie quietly, putting a supportive arm around Bella's shoulders when she moved to his side and wrapped her arms around his waist, glaring at her father defiantly. "But if you choose to keep us apart, then yes, we'll go around you. She's 18 years old. She's legally free to make her own decisions about where she lives, and I'm financially capable of providing comfortably for her if she chooses to make her home with me. I'll ask that she marry me, of course."

He found it truly baffling why all of the Swans seemed so consistently horrified at the mere mention of something so respectable and indicative of devotion as marriage. Shouldn't Charlie _prefer_ that over his daughter 'shacking up' with her boyfriend, to put it in the modern-day vernacular? But it was that final sentence, meant to reassure Charlie of his honorable intentions, that set _both_ of them off.

"She's not getting married at 18!" Charlie exploded at him. At the same time, Bella tensed under his arm, pulling slightly away from him and looking up at him like he'd lost his mind.

"I can't go with you unless I _marry_ you?" Bella went off at nearly the same time, turning that betrayed look on _him._ "So I just have nowhere to go now?"

Edward's mouth was open, but no words were coming out. How the hell did she get _that_ out of what he said?

_You could just start running,_ Emmett offered from the woods with a hint of amusement, unhelpfully adding to the noise in his brain. _You could be deep into Canada in under an hour..._

_The good news is you guys aren't going to be having that fight about Jacob tonight, after all,_ was Alice's wry input. _Would you like the bad news?_

Somehow, his siblings had both known his offer of marriage was the wrong thing to say the moment he said it. Even _before_ Charlie and Bella teamed up on him.

He tuned it all out and focused on finding a way to bring things back down. It wasn't really like Bella to be so overdramatic, leaping to unflattering conclusions like that about _him._ Conclusions like him trying to strong-arm her into matrimony by holding _homelessness_ over her head, for God's sake.

But still. Nowhere to go? Was she _serious_ with that? Had he not made it abundantly clear by now that he purchased that little cottage from Esme for _them_ , almost the moment he saw it _?_ Did she not understand that it was every bit as much _hers_ as it was his, regardless of the name on the deed? Did she not also understand that if she ever needed a place to stay, with or without him, he'd sign it over to her just as quickly as he bought it, no strings attached?

And honestly, it stung a little bit that the idea of marrying him was evidently so repugnant that she'd sooner live on the streets than consider it.

But he fought back his hurt reaction. Clearly, some of her negative feelings about marriage must come from her father, and likely her mother too. He'd already experienced some of the damage _their_ marriage had done to her, right after she left the hospital following the incident with James, when she'd gone into an insecure tailspin and scared the hell out of him after Renee rejected Charlie again.

They could have a rational discussion about all of that later. For the moment, Bella's lip was trembling, she was close to breaking down, and it wasn't like she hadn't already been through hell for _months —_ a good portion of that being directly his fault for abandoning her. He'd just seen several of Charlie's memories of that time for himself, and they were sobering. If her default mode under pressure was still something short of complete trust in him, he could hardly claim ignorance as to why.

_"_ You already know the answer to that, Bella," he assured her quietly, focusing on her like Charlie wasn't even there. "If you want to leave, I'll take you home with me right now. We can go anywhere you like, in fact. Just tell me what you want to do."

The fight drained out of her as quickly as it had welled up. She just looked _tired,_ her shoulders sagging. "I don't know." Her eyes went to Charlie and then back to him. Her voice was very small. "I don't know what I want to do."

All the fight had gone out of Charlie too, the very second Bella made that statement about having nowhere to go. The man was practically drowning in feelings of guilt, willing himself not to choke up and cry in front of his daughter.

"Bells...you'll always have somewhere to go. _Always._ Just...just stay here. Please. I just got you back." His eyes flicked across Edward, his tone becoming more gruff and grudging. "I'm sure Edward and I can...work something out."

"I'd like that, sir," Edward answered softly, immediately, looking him directly in the eye. "For Bella's sake."

_Maybe the kid really does love her_. It was probably the clearest thought Edward had ever got from Charlie Swan.

* * *

Charlie wanted some time to speak with Bella alone about his conditions for allowing Edward into the house, conditions which Edward could see already forming in his mind — time spent with other friends, including Jacob; limited hours spent together every day. Charlie didn't want her in too deep. He wanted her to have other things in her life, aside from Edward, if the relationship imploded again.

But when Charlie invited him to leave for the night so he could discuss it with Bella — a request he made far more civilly this time — Edward still felt Bella panic at the prospect of him going. Her arms constricted around his waist, her body pressing into his side more deeply. Her heart raced wildly.

And he just couldn't do it to her — he couldn't pry her off of him and walk out on her when she was clinging to him, no matter what Charlie Swan wanted. Not even if he would have just quickly moved his car out of sight and have been back in her room waiting for her, almost by the time she and her father made it back to the kitchen —something she really should have known.

So he risked pushing Charlie just a bit farther.

"I'll be happy to wait in Bella's room while you talk. But I'm not leaving without a chance to speak with her too."

Charlie's temper flared, but he clamped down on it. He had seen Bella's reaction to the idea of Edward leaving too, and he knew when he was beat. There was very little he wasn't willing to agree to, if it kept his daughter under his roof. It having been made clear to him that he either accept Edward's presence or Bella would likely just move out to be with him, Charlie decided to pick his battles more carefully — battles like keeping his 18-year-old daughter far, far away from a marriage altar. So he waved a noncommittal hand in the direction of the stairs, with a longsuffering sigh and his eyes rolled upward, and just moved aside.

* * *

Twenty minutes of worried pacing later, during which Edward listened to Charlie's hushed voice trying to explain his reasoning and Bella digging her heels in and refusing to give an inch, the pair of stubborn, hotheaded Swans finally called a truce for the night.

Moments later, a very exhausted Bella appeared in her bedroom and softly closed the door behind her.

Edward had expected her to come straight to him, but she froze just inside when she saw her room for the first time, leaning heavily back against the door as her breath came out in a sharp burst. Her gaze swept around the room like she barely recognized it, lingering a moment on the bed, then on him with an expression he couldn't decipher. Then her eyes quickly flicked away and went to the chair pulled in front of the window, one that hadn't been there seven months before. He'd seen enough in Charlie's thoughts about those months to know she'd sat in it for hours on end, staring out the window like a zombie, much as he'd done in Brazil. And he knew who she'd been watching for, too.

That must have been where she sat when he spoke to her on the phone from Brazil, that moment she looked out her window and saw Albert in her yard, believing it to be him. The moment she thought all of her watching had finally paid off.

The moment her real nightmare started.

She looked _haunted._ Like she felt completely out of place in her own space. Ready to bolt any moment.

"Bella?" he asked gently, slowly approaching her. He didn't want to scare her or trigger a flashback, and at the moment, she seemed wound pretty tight.

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, pulling her out of her thoughts and bringing her startled eyes to his face.

"He said we have ten minutes," she told him flatly, going back to looking across the room at the chair. "Then he said he's coming to 'see you out'."

"And I'll be back here with you less than a minute after he does," he vowed. "No one's going to keep us apart, Bella. You don't have to worry about that."

"Okay." She still wouldn't make eye contact with him.

He sighed, stopping a foot from her. He didn't feel like getting stern with her at the moment. He really just wanted to pick her up, cuddle her into his chest and purr until that haunted look left her face — the one he understood all too well that his own months-long absence had caused. But she was refusing to even look at him, there in that room surrounded by memories of his abandonment, and he had to do _something_ to get through to her. So he injected a note of firmness into his voice.

"When I said I'm not letting you do this anymore, I meant it. Talk to me, love. Tell me what's going on."

Her lip trembled, and it took a few seconds, but she finally looked at him and gave in. And it all came pouring out.

"It's...it's _everything_ , okay? It's this room, and this house, and...and even my yard. Everywhere I look, I only remember you being _gone_ , and I _know_ that's not fair to you. But what's even worse is that he's here _everywhere._ He was never even inside the house, but it's like...it's like he's in every room now. He's in that stupid new kitchen I don't _want_ and can't stop thinking about why it even exists. And then it's Charlie hating you, and me lying to him. It's school and...and Mike and Jessica and...and even _you_ , with the whole marriage thing. It's Alice stressing me out about some fight we're supposed to have tonight, when I'm just trying to get through the next five minutes and I can't _handle_ having a fight with you right now. I just don't want to, Edward. I'm too tired to even take a shower tonight."

And there it was. The reason she hadn't wanted to even look at him. Thanks to Alice, she was scared to death of getting into a fight with him, to have there be problems between them.

Just like he was.

She was still pressed up against her bedroom door like she wished she could go right through it, so when he closed the distance and took her into his arms, he just hauled her away from it and turned his body so he didn't have her trapped between him and it. His hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her securely against him. "Shhhh...Bella. Nobody's having a fight tonight. And even if we did, I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again. I'm so sorry, love. I'm so very sorry for all the hurt I caused you."

"I think something's wrong with me," she whispered into his shoulder hopelessly, and he tightened his hold.

"There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart," he soothed. "You're just overwhelmed. This was too much in one day, and I should have known better. I should never have agreed to you starting school the same day you had to come back here for the first time. That's on me."

"No, it's not that!" she insisted, pulling back to look at him, her eyes worried and scared. Her fingers gripped his biceps desperately. "I nearly lost it with Charlie tonight. I know I messed up your whole plan, and I'm sorry. I was just going to listen. But when he threatened to arrest you, I couldn't take it. I just wanted to _hit_ him. I've never been so...so _furious_. If he had touched you, I think I might have actually punched him. My own _dad_. What's wrong with me, Edward?"

He had gone completely still halfway through that, lips parting. He needed to answer her, but he was in the middle of an epiphany, as something about what she had said triggered a memory of Alice's earlier words to Bella about _him_.

_You're his mate...he can't not protect you._

And he was hers too. That had been driven home to him less than 24 hours before.

Suddenly, her outburst on the porch made perfect sense, when he looked at it from his vampire's perspective.

Bella had been instinctively protecting her mate. _Him_. Because she couldn't _not_ , any more than he could stand by and not protect her.

It floored him all over again, the depth of their bond while she was still human, the way she reacted more like a mated female vampire with each passing day. It made his heart swell. It scared the life out of him at the idea of Bella ever trying to put herself between him and danger, even after she was changed.

It also made him want to push her up against that door and try to kiss the wits right out of her, because the thought of a growling, golden-eyed Bella snarling at anything that dared threaten him — from somewhere safely behind him, of course — was the sexiest goddamn thing he'd dreamed up in his entire existence.

"You just couldn't not protect me," he murmured, wrapping his arms low around her waist and pulling her closer. "Do you remember what Alice told you tonight, about me? About how I have an innate need to keep you safe?"

She nodded, her brow wrinkling up with worry at that reminder of Alice's prediction of a fight. "Yes. What does that have to do with this?"

"It means there's nothing wrong with you. The opposite, actually. You were just defending your mate. That was our bond compelling you to protect me, just like I protect you."

Her eyes widened as she took that in. "So that's what you feel like all the time?" she asked after a moment, and then immediately tried to clarify. "Like...like you can't hold it in? Like you just want to rip apart anything that might hurt me?"

Anything that might hurt her...or take her away from him...or even look at her the wrong damn way...

But he couldn't even answer her question. He couldn't stop the dazzled way he was looking at her, couldn't quite keep the awe out of his voice when the one coherent thought in his head came streaming out of his mouth, unfiltered.

"You're going to be spectacular, Bella. When I change you...God, I can't wait."

She shivered in his arms, at the longing in his voice, her eyes going dark. And he suddenly flattened his hand against the middle of her back and pulled her flush against him, a tiny growl breaking free of his chest and finding its way into his words. "What you're _not_ going to do is put yourself in harm's way for me. Ever. We're going to get that straight right now."

She was looking at him with the same amount of awe he regarded her, her heart pounding fast. "No promises. So how do you control it, this...this intensity? How do you..." she shook her head looking for the words.

"Find balance?" he asked, and she nodded, searching his eyes seriously.

He ducked his head, the corners of his lips pulling up as he pressed them into her hair to hide his smile.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	17. Blindsided

Chapter 17

Her first night home in her own room proved to be more challenging than Bella would have expected.

She felt off-balance and out of place, like she was a completely different person than she was the last time she spent a night there.

And she was. When she was last there, Edward Cullen had been missing from her life for seven long months, with her not truly knowing _why._ And his impostor, Albert Rowe, had yet to touch her.

There were just too many ghosts in that room — the ghosts of her own pain, her own memories. The reminders of those awful months alone were everywhere she looked, haunting her, suffocating her, making her acutely terrified that Edward could simply disappear again at any second.

Like maybe it had all been a dream and he never returned at all.

It brought out emotions and fears that she hadn't even realized she still struggled with — even with Edward right there, his arms wrapped securely around her in her bed when she tried to go to sleep.

Being back in that bed just threw her even more off-balance, to the extent she could barely suppress her reactions. It was all she could do to shove down the panic, keep the flashbacks at bay.

She had just gone through too much there, without him. There had been too many nightmares, too many nights spent gasping awake — alone — in crushing terror. Too many times that she had _needed_ him, desperately, and he hadn't been there.

And most of that, she had yet to deal with.

Since his return, living with him in the Cullen house, the majority of her emotional resources had gone toward processing and coping with what Albert did to her, the terror of him coming after her again. She'd had very little left over to work on healing from the trauma of what _Edward_ had done to her by leaving.

Her fears had been debilitating when he first returned, of course, fears that he really didn't want to be there with her — that he was just waiting for his chance to leave again. But over time, as she and Edward had started working together in the cottage, spending the nights together in his room, the dread of waking up to find him gone had slowly dissipated. She had slowly begun to trust him to be there when she awoke, at the very least.

But now, back in her own bed, ground zero for seven long months of lonely torture, that pain and fear moved to the forefront.

Every time she would nearly fall asleep, she would jerk awake, terrified she would find Edward's return had all been a dream and she was still alone.

His solid arms around her weren't enough. She had to _see_ him to confirm he was really there with her. And by the fourth time she jerked back awake with a gasp, her head coming up off his chest and her panicked eyes flying to his face while her fingers dug into his shirt, her breath shaky, there was no question that Edward knew exactly why.

His visage was tormented, guilty. He looked like if he could, he would probably cry. Instead, he just sighed.

"Do you really want to try to sleep right now?" he finally asked, tentatively. "Or would you be amenable to a change of scenery?"

Her fingers clutched him more tightly. Did he mean their meadow? She hadn't been back since the day she'd gone looking for it alone and came across Albert there, long before she knew who he was or what he would do to her. The idea made her shiver, and she was surprised he'd suggest it in the dark, alone. But it was _Edward_. He'd keep her safe.

"I don't care where I am as long as you're with me," she told him honestly, and felt his arms grip her more tightly in response. She really hadn't been trying to twist the knife, but apparently she had.

"Come here, Bella," he whispered softly. "I have you." He shifted her so he could sit up, then picked her up and stood to his feet. She clung tightly to his neck.

But he didn't go far. He didn't go out the window with her, as she expected. He sat down right in the chair she'd pulled in front of her window not long after he left, the place she had sat alone for months of silent pain, staring out the window, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of him coming back for her.

The very same chair where her heart had ached for months, feeling dead and empty in her chest. Only this time, she was in her mate's lap — a vast improvement.

She lay her head on his shoulder and snuggled into him, looking out the dark window and seeing little more than their own reflections cast back at them from the low light in the room. His chin rested on top of her head, one arm tight around her waist while the other stroked her back, her hair, slowly and soothingly. Somehow, that visual picture of him holding her was more reassuring than even the feel of it. For so long, it had only been her own dead expression staring back at her.

He seemed equally fixated on that image of them together, staring into their reflections in the glass, quietly cuddling her. Aside from Bella's contented sigh, neither of them said anything for quite a while, long enough for her eyes to grow heavy.

"I did this too, you know," he told her then, breaking the silence almost intentionally — as though he feared her drifting off, only to reawaken in panic that he was gone. His quietly deep voice reverberated through his chest, and she both heard and felt it through her whole body.

"Did what?" she asked, her eyes still closed, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

" _This_. I did the same thing when I was in Brazil. Staring out the window for hours on end, trying to get through the next hour without you. The next minute."

She considered that for a moment. "Do you think we were both doing it at the same time?" And she felt his small smile into the top of her head. She also saw, when she opened her eyes just enough to peek at the window's reflection, how his eyes squeezed shut with guilt as his head dipped further into her hair.

"I have no doubt of it," he answered quietly, then he sighed. "You watched for me. My sweet, loyal Bella. I can't tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that. The worst part is knowing that I had it all wrong, that I put you through all of it for nothing."

"Don't do that," she scolded, burrowing closer, still wary of any topic that could lead into that fight Alice had predicted. "You explained your reasons why, and I forgave you. Why bring it back up now?"

He had an instant answer for that.

"Because you're still terrified I'm going to disappear again, and I don't know how to fix that," he replied bluntly, though quietly. "All day long, I've seen your face through a hundred different memories, all thinking about how badly I hurt you. I saw it in _your_ eyes when I left you in class today, the fear that I might not come back for you. I saw your father's memories tonight, of you waking up screaming, sitting in this chair looking for me, and...and my _God_ , Bella, he's absolutely right to hate me. And you would be too. I can't understand why you don't."

"I just don't," she said simply, because she couldn't deny that she _was_ still terrified, especially now that they'd left the 'safe' bubble of the Cullen home, back to the same life he'd walked out on before — regardless of his reasons.

And that was that for a few quiet moments, as Edward sighed and just pulled her closer.

"What was it like for you?" she broke the silence herself the next time she nearly succumbed to sleep, before she could risk drifting off and hurting him again. And she still felt the way his whole body tensed at the question. "Being apart, I mean. Was it the same for you as for me?"

His hand stilled, resting in the center of her back, and he heaved another huge sigh. "I'm not sure I could even put that into words," he said finally, his lips moving against her hair, loath to put any distance between them.

She focused on the feel of that closeness, let it soothe her. "Will you try? I...I need to know."

When he didn't immediately answer, she sat up straighter in his lap, her arms locking around his neck as she looked at him expectantly. She felt compelled to see his face, suddenly. His ticcing jaw muscle was the only visual indication of his distress, though she could feel the tension in his fingers as they agitatedly tensed and relaxed against her.

"It was...it was the worst kind of torture. The worst misery. Not knowing if I would ever be able to go back to you was — I can't begin to describe it, Bella. The thought of facing even one more hour away from you, much less the rest of your life? The thought of you moving on, making a life without me and one day dying? It was unbearable. I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone."

She found the agony on his face as unbearable as what he described, so she lay her head back on his shoulder, pressed her lips to his neck and kissed him. His light shiver made her do it again.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously. "How did you spend your time?"

He gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I did nothing. I was worse than useless. You at least tried to make an effort. I could barely bring myself to move. I didn't hunt. I did nothing constructive. I just paced. I stared out the window at the streets, imagined I saw your face in the crowd a thousand times over. I called Alice every day and begged her to tell me the vision changed so I could come home to you. It never did, of course. So I just sat there, trapped in my own thoughts."

She hugged him more tightly. "What did you think about?"

His lips pressed a firm kiss to the crown of her head before his decisive answer. "You."

"What about me?"

He tipped his head back then, eyebrows pulling together as he took hold of her chin with one hand and maneuvered her so he could see her eyes. "What's this all about, love? Are you honestly questioning whether or not I missed you? Or is there another reason?"

She fidgeted in his lap, evaded his question because she didn't know the answer herself. Maybe she _did_ need to hear him say he missed her as much as she missed him. Maybe she did.

"My question first," she decided on for her reply.

The way his lips turned up at one corner in response to her sudden bossiness was one of her very favorite smiles of his, one of the ones that always made her heart skip a beat and the air vanish from her lungs. And it didn't fail him this time, either.

"I'm glad to see some things haven't changed, at least," he teased lightly, and she wasn't sure if he meant her demanding approach to conversational give-and-take or her physical response to him. Maybe both.

"So?" she asked raising an eyebrow at him. "Tell me."

His eyes returned to the window, looking at their reflections in the mirror as he let go of her chin and wrapped both arms around her again. His face grew serious as he gave her question honest consideration.

"I thought about how much I missed you, of course. I obsessed over where you were, what you were doing, if you were safe. Alice told me some things, but not everything. In my worst moments, I came up with elaborate plans for how to get back into Forks and find you without my family's interference, even take you out of the country if that was what it took to get you back."

That intrigued her. "I don't understand. Why would you have to do that?"

He hesitated briefly, clearly not sure how well his answer was going to go over. But he made the mistake of glancing into her pleading eyes, then gave in immediately. His gaze was drawn back to their reflection like a magnet as he spoke.

"I had made my family promise not to let me near you if I tried to come back. I had at least some idea how impossible it would be to stay away from you, although the reality far surpassed anything I could have imagined. So when I left, I made Alice promise to hide you if she ever saw me coming back. But that backfired on me. The thought of not being able to find you nearly drove me out of my mind. It was just more than I could take. I had to have a plan in place to get to you, in case I snapped and couldn't take it anymore."

She shivered in his arms, bringing his alarmed eyes back to her face. She'd have explained that her reaction wasn't one of horror, but of _delight_ — Edward had never truly been capable of not coming back for her eventually, whether he'd been willing to admit that to himself or not, and that was something she'd desperately needed to hear — but he didn't give her the chance to explain, intent on reassuring her.

"You have to understand, Bella. I had no intention of carrying that plan out. So long as there was any possibility it was _me_ in the vision, I would have never risked anything that might cause it to come true. I spent far more of my time going back over every moment we had ever spent together, looking for any sign that I could ever harm you like that. I _tortured_ myself with it. The plans to find you were only to keep me from panicking and jumping on a plane immediately, with the worry that something might happen to you and I wouldn't be able to find you. Being unable to protect you myself was at least as impossible as being away from you."

"Because you just can't _not_ protect me," she breathed. "Like Alice said tonight."

His smile was back in his voice again at the certainty in her words, her trust in him, the memory of her instant and vehement defense of him to Charlie. "And vice versa, apparently."

She felt no need to deny the truth. She yawned, sleepiness starting to overwhelm her. And she thought that this time, she might be able to drift off and stay asleep, secure in the knowledge that Edward wouldn't have made it much longer without her, just as she wouldn't have without him.

Just a few more of her wounds had begun to heal that night, shielded in his arms, hearing him tell how hard it had been to be away from her.

She hadn't even realized how much she needed that.

"I'm glad Alice was wrong about us fighting tonight," she said, cuddling into him and getting comfortable. "This is better. Let's just not fight ever."

It had been a long time since she'd felt his happy laugh through her whole body, his arms tightening around her. "I'll certainly not argue with that."

She was vaguely aware of it, some time later, when he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed, wrapping her up safely against his chest — where she slept soundly the rest of the night.

And the next morning, when she opened her eyes in her room for her first morning home?

His face was the first thing she saw.

He made absolutely certain of it.

* * *

The second day of school was a little easier than the first, knowing what to expect — like the fact that Jessica Stanley was to be avoided at all costs, along with pretty much anyone else who wasn't a Cullen and kept throwing insinuating smirks at the two of them.

She didn't have to be a mindreader to read the looks thrown their way. Edward didn't mention it and did his best to shield her and redirect her attention from it — not entirely so subtly as he thought — but there was little he could do to hide it from her completely. The fact that she had confirmed to Jessica Stanley that she and Edward had "done the deed" had, unsurprisingly, spread throughout the entire school like wildfire.

Their level of closeness did little to contradict that assumption, either.

Edward was right by her side every single second that he could be, either holding her hand or wrapping his arm around her when they walked, sitting as close to her as he could in class, still touching her as much as possible. The rest of the Cullens supported that effort, with Rosalie and Alice escorting her to the bathroom — which was exactly as awkward as it sounded — and all of them surrounding her at lunch.

Then, of course, there were her last two classes of the day, without Edward — the hardest part of her day, although she gave Jessica a wide berth in English this time. Thankfully, there was no group work, so she was able to pull that off.

She'd barely kept the panic attack from sucking her completely under when Jessica interrogated her the day before, especially given the topic:

Sex with Edward.

If anyone had told her seven months before that just thinking about such a thing would freak her out completely, she'd have questioned their sanity. She had daydreamed about it constantly back then, fantasized about it, oftentimes with her hand between her legs when she had time alone.

All of that raw _power_ of him, carefully holding himself above her — herself lying on her back under him, legs spread open with his hard hips between them... looking up into his face and seeing his struggle to keep his strength under control as he slowly slid into her, began to thrust...

Her heart _still_ raced to imagine it. There was still a tingle in her gut that was in no way unpleasant.

But it also scared her to death, squeezed her lungs in a vise imagining him above her now, pressing her down beneath him. All she could think about was the blinding, tearing pain of what Albert did to her. And that had just been his fingers — identical ones to Edward's. Would it feel like that? Would it feel _anything_ like that at all?

Would it be worse?

She would really prefer Edward not know just how deeply Jessica's simple statement had affected her, the little shot of panic that raced through her system when she was quizzed about what sex with Edward was like. Keeping that reaction to herself had been the largest part of her motivation in fighting down her terror, not giving in to a complete meltdown right in the middle of class.

Gym with Emmett was by far the easier of her two classes without Edward. Her self-pronounced big brother ran interference for her with Mike Newton — not even _trying_ to be subtle about it, unlike Edward — but the end result was that she felt as safe as she could possibly feel without Edward by her side.

She was almost surprised when she made it to the end of the second day without anything horrible happening.

So she breathed a sigh of relief when Edward ushered her into the passenger seat of his Volvo and closed the door behind her, reappearing in the driver's seat just a _little_ too quickly to be believable.

The smile on his face was just as relieved as hers.

"Your father said you just have to be home by 6, right?" he confirmed, as he cranked the engine.

She sighed, her good mood fading. At Edward's urging before Charlie came in to make sure she was awake that morning, she'd decided to go along with at least a few of her dad's 'requests', in exchange for him allowing her a few unsupervised hours with Edward each day. Even if she had to give him up by 6, he would be waiting for her in her room when she went to bed anyway, so she could afford to give a little bit to keep the peace.

"Yeah. But I should probably get there a little early so I can start dinner. Why?"

Edward's good mood remained unfazed. His smile grew wider, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out of the school lot. If she didn't know better, she would think he was nervous about something.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the cottage with me for a little while. I have a surprise for you."

Her heart stuttered, and he heard it, his gaze quickly turning more fully on her.

"What kind of surprise?" she asked. She was the nervous one now. She had never been overly fond of surprises anyway. But apparently, they now threw her even more off-balance — more out of control. The depth of her alarm surprised her as much as it did Edward, who could, of course, hear her every heartbeat.

Which wasn't always for the best.

"Just something I'd like to give you," Edward clarified quickly. "It's really not a big deal. It was already yours. I'd just like to make it official."

He studied her closely as her heart hammered away in her chest. She knew she should say something, but she was trying hard to fight off the impending panic attack that nearly had her in its grasp.

She'd more or less been successful, lately, in keeping those feelings at bay. But since the moment she walked through the doors of the school the day before and her friends immediately rushed her, it was only getting harder to keep control — not easier. She missed the relative peace and solitude of the Cullen house immensely.

"We don't have to," Edward amended after a moment. "We can go to the main house with my family, instead, if you'd prefer. Either way, my family will be close by. We won't be completely alone."

Great. Now he thought she was afraid to be alone with him again.

She took a deep breath, forced a smile.

"No, the cottage sounds great."

And it did. It was just the idea of a _surprise_ waiting for her there that didn't sound so good.

But Edward was obviously now taking the overcautious approach and didn't fully believe her assurances. "Bella..." he trailed off, worried eyes paying far less attention to the road than they should be.

Now he was afraid to take her to the cottage at all. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Tears sprang up in her own eyes, frustrating her to no end. It had been such a _good_ day, for the most part. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just get _over_ this?

"I'm fine, Edward. Just trust me. I want to go to the cottage with you. Okay?"

His fingers tensed around the wheel, but he didn't push the issue further. "Okay," he just answered softly.

A few silent moments passed before he reached one hand out to her, allowing her to put her hand in his — which she did immediately, despite the way that her memory of Albert reaching for her the exact same way still jangled her nerves.

Only after she welcomed his touch did Edward seem to relax. It was still a few minutes before _she_ did.

* * *

The moment she walked in the door of the cottage, she thought she knew exactly what the surprise was.

She had nearly forgotten all of the things she had ordered for Edward's living room, from his laptop, during those first days they had spent working in the cottage. It had been his way of giving her something to do to keep her out of clumsy destruction, she had suspected. And while she had been mildly uncomfortable spending so much of his money, he had been correct that he would need furnishings and decorations for his house — nice ones, because he was _Edward Cullen._

Alice would have likely been far better at such a thing, but Edward had been so vocally supportive of all her choices that Bella had actually enjoyed doing it.

In the days since they had stopped going there to work, many of those purchases had obviously been delivered.

It was the first time she'd seen them. The night they had come there to talk, nothing had looked very different from the last time she'd seen it. The only differences were that the flooring had been finished since they were last there — which was that horrible day that Albert dumped Lacey's body — and there was the addition of the wood barrel beside the fireplace.

But clearly, the 'elder' Cullens had been busy while the rest of them were gone to school that day.

The furniture she had helped Edward pick out was in the living room now, and several pictures she had ordered hung on the walls — along with a very prominent photo of the two of them, enlarged and ornately framed, hanging above the fireplace.

She remembered Alice taking that picture, at some point before Edward had left — what seemed a lifetime ago — but she had never seen the actual photo before. Despite what she considered her own plainness, the picture was breathtaking. They stood close together, both smiling, Edward's arm around her. Neither of them looked at the camera. They had eyes only for each other, both of them looking completely smitten and in love.

"Wow," she exclaimed as she looked around, taking it all in. The living room of the little cottage looked like a _home_. It was so easy to imagine it as _their_ home. But as she had done many times during the days they worked there, before she could get too carried away, she reminded herself that it was _his_ cottage, not in any way _hers_.

She walked closer to the fireplace, stood beneath the picture. "Hey, have you seen this before?" she asked, still staring up at the picture, wondering what Edward thought of it hanging above his fireplace.

She almost jumped when he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, but she quickly relaxed into him.

"Of course I have," he murmured close to her ear. "I'm the one who asked Alice to have it framed for me."

Something about that got her right in the heart. Everything else hanging on the walls were things _she_ had picked out, things she had ordered for him online to match the paint colors and furniture. The one thing Edward had personally requested was a picture of her — of _them._

She turned in his arms to face him, and it nearly took her breath away when she saw the look on his face as he smiled down at her.

It was the same expression as in the picture, looking at her like there was nothing else he could see.

"Okay, I still don't like surprises," she qualified with a warning in her tone, ignoring the way her heart had just skipped a beat, "but this was a pretty good one. Everything looks really great."

He opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it. He leaned in and quickly kissed her lips instead, just a brief peck.

"I'm glad you like it. Would you enjoy a tour?" he asked, and she agreed happily.

He gleefully took her hand and led her into the kitchen, showed her all of the new appliances — which she had definitely _not_ picked out. She had the feeling they were extremely high-end — and unnecessary, since vampires don't eat. Still, she supposed she could see the need for keeping up appearances, as Carlisle and Esme did with their own kitchen.

"Esme picked out the table and chairs," he told her, watching her intently as she trailed her fingers across the smooth wood. "Do you like them?" She didn't see why that should matter one way or another, but her approval seemed very important to him. So she truthfully told him they were beautiful — and was dazzled by his happy, relieved smile.

When he took her down the little hallway, past the guest bath, she saw more of the decorations she'd chosen hanging on the walls. She'd only focused on the living room, but apparently, she'd gone a little overboard.

She was very curious about the bedrooms, because she hadn't ordered anything for those. But to her delight, the little guest bedroom, where Edward led her next, had been turned into the bones of what she could see would be a beautiful library, complete with shelving and what looked to be a very comfortable window seat that had been built on.

"I thought a library might be nice," he offered, almost shyly. "I couldn't get here to work on it myself, obviously, but Carlisle built the shelves today, while Esme was setting up everything else. There's still some work to do, some furniture to pick out. But maybe we could work on that together one afternoon after school."

"Definitely," she agreed quickly, loving the idea of more time spent in the little cottage working with Edward. She had missed it terribly since they stopped coming there. "I'd be glad to help you."

Something about that statement amused him. She saw it in his eyes.

"So that's everything," he said abruptly, eyes scanning the room, that smile still pulling at his lips. "Did you want to go up to the main house for a little while? I'm sure Esme would love to see you."

"What about the master bedroom?" she asked curiously. "I haven't seen that yet."

And he hesitated. Noticeably. Dramatically. With his mouth open as he tried to figure out what to say.

She backpedaled immediately, her face pinking and soon flaming. "I mean, I guess it's not really my business."

But Edward looked at her sharply. "Of course it's your business. You know better than that. It's just..."

"What?" she asked nervously.

His eyes pinned her in place. "I have a confession to make."

She swallowed hard, her heart speeding up. "Okay."

"All of _this_ — it wasn't really the surprise. It just kind of...goes along with it, in a way. But the rest of the tour can wait, if you want. I didn't mean to spring anything on you, make you uncomfortable. I'd never want to do that."

She read between the lines, put the pieces together. "So the surprise is in the master bedroom, then."

"Yes. And it can wait," he insisted firmly.

"No, it can't," she decided just as firmly, remembering how excited he'd been about his surprise in the car, before her absurd panic landed on his enthusiasm like a bucket of cold water. "Show me."

He still hesitated, eyeing her warily. "You're sure?"

Honestly? She wasn't.

"Yes."

* * *

She wasn't sure what she expected when Edward reached around her to open the closed door to the master bedroom so she could enter first.

But whatever she had expected, it certainly wasn't for the room to be... empty.

There was no furniture, no decoration — nothing aside from freshly laid soft carpeting and the freshly painted walls, a color she had personally chosen over Alice's not-so-secret disapproval. The same pale grey, of course, that had ended up so pleasingly smeared all over them both during their paint battle.

She turned quickly to look back at Edward, who was a step behind her, smiling softly, his hands now in his pockets.

"It's empty," she pointed out, feeling foolish. What had she expected? A gigantic bed covered in rose petals?

Based solely on the way her heart was still thudding out of control in her chest, that must have been _exactly_ what she had expected. Was it wrong that she was _relieved_ not to find some ornate bed? Again, she wondered, what was _wrong_ with her?

"Not completely empty," Edward pointed out, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently turning her to face the bare, curtainless window.

And she finally saw it. Sitting on the window sill, there was a shiny gold gift bag, about a foot tall, elaborately and tastefully arranged. She turned back to face him. "What is it?"

He couldn't fully suppress his smile. "Open it and find out."

She walked over and picked up the little bag, but hesitated, her eyes studying his face for some clue. The panic must have been written all over her face because Edward actually rolled his eyes, chuckling a little bit.

"Breathe, love. It's not an engagement ring. I've learned my lesson." He pointedly gestured toward the bag in her hands, affectionate amusement in his eyes. "You're holding proof of my rehabilitation in your hands, in fact. If I could only get you to open it."

She still looked at the bag in her hands like a rattlesnake might pop out of it any moment, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. "I hope you didn't spend a lot of money."

His eyebrow quirked at her newest reservation, one he'd heard in the past. "I didn't. At least, not on this. But you do realize that money is something I have in no short supply? And that spending it on my mate is something I would enjoy immensely?"

She didn't reply, but she did relent. She reached in, fished around, and finally pulled out a small box, far smaller than the gift bag that held it. Jewelry-box sized. And her eyes flew back to his in panic.

"Edward..."

He grinned. "Still not a ring. Just open it, Bella."

She did, her confusion evident on her face when she plucked out a small, plain gold key.

"There's something else in the bag," he told her before she could ask questions, that nervousness back on his face.

She hadn't seen anything. She had to feel along the sides of the bag before she found it, just a sheet of paper that had been standing up against the inside.

She turned it so that she could see what it was. She first noticed Edward's bold, perfect signature at the bottom of the page. It took a moment to read everything, to understand what she held in her hand.

And then her jaw fell open.

Edward had appeared directly in front of her while she read, his eyes just a little worried again.

"I wanted to clear up a misunderstanding from last night. You don't have to marry me to have somewhere to go if you choose to leave home, Bella," he told her softly. "I hope you'll take your maiden name on that deed as evidence of that fact."

Her eyes were frozen on the quitclaim deed in her hand, the one where he'd signed ownership of the cottage over from Edward Anthony Cullen — to Edward Anthony Cullen and Isabella Marie Swan.

Not Isabella Cullen, a wife. Isabella _Swan._ Just her. Without a ring on her finger.

She was under no illusion about what a huge deal that was for him.

She wasn't responding — _couldn't_ respond — and that seemed to be only increasing his nervousness. He kept his hands to himself, planting them on his hips, as he kept explaining rapidly, anxiously.

"I had Esme print it off and bring it over for me to sign, last night while you were sleeping. I was working under the assumption that it was only matrimony you object to, not sharing your life with me."

Still, she was speechless. She finally tore her gaze away from the paper in her hands, staring up at him, her eyes as round as silver dollars.

"Was I wrong in that assumption?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "This hasn't been filed with the county yet. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can rip it up right here. It's yours to do with as you please. Much like this bedroom."

He saw the question in her eyes, tilted his head to indicate the empty space. "There's a reason this room is untouched. It's so that you can decide what it becomes. Whether you intend it as a space for you alone or a bedroom for the two of us one day, it's still very much yours either way. I just don't want you believing you have nowhere to go, Bella, no matter whether you ever consent to marry me or not. Not ever again."

The worry in his eyes turned to full-fledged alarm when tears welled up in her eyes, quickly spilling down over her cheeks.

"Bella? Please say something, love."

She almost knocked the breath out of herself when she threw herself forward and crashed into his marble-hard chest. And she didn't care. She put her arms around him and squeezed for dear life. The little gold key was clenched tightly in one of her hands, cutting into her palm. The deed to the cottage — _their_ cottage, a home with Edward — she grasped carefully in the other. Both items were precious to her, but the man those hands held tightly to her was worth far more.

"I love you," was what came out of her mouth, and the air was nearly driven from her lungs again when Edward's arms closed tightly around her. "I love you so much."

He sighed into her hair in relief. "You took a few decades off my existence just now. Giving you gifts is not for the faint of heart. It isn't too much, then?"

She shook her head fiercely, pressed her face into his chest. "It's perfect," she mumbled into his shirt. " _You're_ perfect."

The purr in his chest spoke volumes about how happy both her words and her touch made him. "I hope you'll always think so."

She pulled back, looked up at him — and as usual, said the last thing he'd have expected.

"Oh my God. Charlie's going to murder us both if he finds out you gave me a _house._ "

Edward laughed happily at that unexpected reaction — at hearing her _finally,_ for the first time, acknowledging the little cottage as _theirs_. "Not likely. He'd have to go through _me_ to get to you _._ Your reaction was the one I was worried about. Alice said it would be all right, but I'll never understand how a house is a perfectly acceptable offering when you still refuse to accept even one piece of jewelry from me."

She was all but drowning in his happy golden eyes. "That's easy. You owned the house already. The real gift is knowing you want me here with you."

His face grew serious, his eyes darkening. She saw his intent as his hands came up to slide into her hair, and her breath caught. She'd seen that look in his eyes before, knew he was about to kiss the sense right out of her.

But he paused millimeters from her lips when her pulse raced beneath his hands at her neck.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, a question he'd rarely if ever stopped to ask. His eyes were unsure, and she didn't know why — until she made the connection that it had to do with the place they stood and what it represented.

Their future bedroom.

He understood exactly the conflicting emotions she felt about that — because _he_ felt them too, she realized for the first time. He knew what had happened to her, knew better than anyone that it had been _him_ she saw when it happened.

This part wasn't easy for him either.

And her heart did a flip-flop in her chest at that realization. At that exact moment, she couldn't imagine not wanting anything he wanted to do with her.

"Yes. Kiss me," she pled, because if he didn't, she might actually not survive.

And he did. With a needy groan in the back of his throat, he took her at her word and his lips came down on hers.

He kissed her with a neediness she'd not felt from him since his return, his hands in her hair pulling her close. He kissed her until she was dizzy, but not from lack of air. Dizzy with _want_. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands in her hair angled her head for better access, deepening the kiss and leaving her in danger of her knees buckling. She let the key and the deed fall to the floor, her hands finding their way into his hair and digging in.

They both groaned when a familiar voice rang out from the doorway. A very amused voice.

"Took my advice and got a room. 'Bout time."

Emmett.

Edward broke the kiss, leaning their foreheads together, his hands still burrowed deep in her hair. Bella didn't even glance in Emmett's direction. She was too busy noting with fascination that she wasn't the only one trying to catch her breath. Edward's breathing was equally labored, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Go away, Emmett," her mate rasped in a darkly wry tone, not sounding particularly hopeful of that happening. She suppressed a breathless giggle.

Emmett chuckled, proving the theory that, sadly, he wasn't going anywhere. "Nuh-uh. Looks like you two kids need some supervision. I'd gladly offer my services for a chaperoned stroll around the lake, maybe some nice tea on the front porch. That's your idea of a hot date, right, bro?"

Edward finally opened his eyes, which were still dark but tinged with amusement. His focus never wavered from Bella as he sighed in resignation.

"Are you opposed to my committing murder _inside_ our house, or would you prefer I take it outdoors?"

She was at least 99 percent certain he was kidding. Okay, maybe 95.

"That depends," she hedged. "Do I get to help?" And she enjoyed watching the lips that had just been attached to hers twitch as Edward suppressed his smile.

"I suppose I could leave him alive for now. We can finish him off together after you're changed."

"Deal."

"Hey!" Emmett protested without any real alarm. "That hurts, Bella. Here I was, coming to give you a housewarming gift."

"Does he really have a gift?" Bella asked Edward, yet to tear her eyes away from him. She knew the exact moment he finally cared enough to read Emmett's mind and find the answer to that question. Because he groaned again, a longsuffering sound.

"Unfortunately." He released her, with no small amount of reluctance. "And he made it himself."

* * *

He was only kidding about murdering his brother. _Mostly_.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing Emmett had showed up when he did. Because Edward had been very close to getting carried away.

He just couldn't help it.

He and Bella had a _home._

It had bothered him more than he let on, that instant assumption Bella made on her porch with Charlie the night before, that if she didn't marry him, Edward didn't want her. He hadn't realized he'd been quite that overbearing about the whole thing.

He understood very well that pressure of _any_ kind wasn't what Bella needed from him. He just hadn't really known how deep her aversion to marriage ran, until it came out of Charlie's mouth too and everything clicked together in his head.

And he was instantly remorseful.

He'd wanted to _do_ something, make some grand gesture to rectify his mistake. As he held her in his arms in her bed that night, soothing her when she became restless and doing his very best to chase away the nightmares that had been brought on by her return home, he'd considered multiple options for how to make his point clear.

When he originally considered putting her name on the deed _now_ , rather than waiting until she bore his last name as he'd originally intended, he'd quickly discarded the idea as being too much. Bella wouldn't even accept small trinkets from him. Gifting her a _house_ would surely freak her out even more than asking her to marry him.

But Alice, who'd still been outside keeping guard with Emmett, was keeping tabs on his decisions and their potential outcomes — mostly because she intended to stop him if he started preparing to shoot himself in the foot again.

When he considered that one, she'd all but squealed.

_Yes! Oh, Edward, she's going to love it. Call Esme right now!_

And he had.

Putting all of Bella's touches on the house and making it look like a home when he presented her with the deed was Esme's idea. Leaving the master bedroom untouched and giving her the key along with the title was his.

His mother was all too happy to put everything together for him, something he'd normally have done for himself. All he ended up doing personally was signing the deed Esme brought him, which he had enjoyed doing quite a lot. It had put a pleasant tingle of anticipation in his stomach to see their names together on that deed. It felt like taking a proactive step toward the future he wanted.

He would have loved to set up everything in the house himself. But there was no way he was leaving Bella her first night home, regardless of how well-protected. If she were to wake up and not find him there, it would be catastrophic. He didn't need Alice to tell him that.

Despite Alice's assurance that Bella would love his gift, he'd been starting to wonder if she was wrong. There had been a very real few moments there, actually, that he had thought Bella was about to run right out the front door on him.

And then she'd been in his arms, telling him she accepted the house because it meant she got to be with _him_.

His common sense had gone right out the window. He shouldn't have kissed her quite like _that_ , not in a room he'd just been extremely forward about his desire for it to be their bedroom. Not when her heart started racing at an alarming pace, and he honestly couldn't tell all of the reasons why.

Not when she kissed him back with an enthusiasm that chased the rest of his wits from his skull.

So Emmett's presence there, in reality, was probably a good thing.

That bearskin rug he was bringing Bella for the floor in front of the fireplace — and especially some of its potential uses Emmett hoped to elaborate on — was more problematic.

* * *

"Oh my God. What is _that_?" Bella asked, when she finally turned to the doorway of the room to give Emmett her full attention, stopping in her tracks when she saw the giant roll he carried atop his shoulder.

"Your housewarming gift," Emmett grinned. "Follow me." And he disappeared in a blur.

Edward rolled his eyes. Emmett sometimes forgot Bella was still human. She couldn't very well _follow_ him if she couldn't _see_ him.

"He's in the living room," he told Bella with a wry smile. "And I apologize in advance for every single word that's about to come out of his mouth."

That made her giggle, which delighted Edward to no end. He sometimes got a little jealous of Emmett's easy ability to make her laugh, something that didn't come as naturally to him. He felt it even more keenly now, since what happened to her, her smiles and laughs being fewer and farther in between. He coveted every single one of them.

He took her hand and led her out of the bedroom — but he glanced back over his shoulder at the empty room as they left, the tingle of _promise_ running through his body.

This was now their house, officially. That would be their _room_ one day. His and Bella's. Their _bedroom._

By the time they reached the living room, Emmett had already rolled the absolutely enormous bearskin rug out onto the floor in front of the fireplace, and Bella gasped when she saw it.

"Wow...Emmett, that's really kinda beautiful."

And it actually was. He'd done a good job, Edward had to admit. That soft rug in front of the fireplace was visually appealing, fitting into the rustic theme of the room better than he might have thought.

Maybe he had pulled the seed of the idea from Emmett's mind. But Edward was the one to run with it. The instant mental image of himself and Bella cuddling on that soft rug, in front of a roaring fire, a blanket wrapped around their naked bodies after he made slow love to her on the floor in their home...well... _that_ was appealing both visually and in other ways.

Emmett beamed proudly. "I fought him myself. The biggest one yet. Tasty, too. He put up a pretty good fight. But I got a hold of his jaw and..."

"Emmett." Edward cut in, with a warning tone. "I don't believe she needs the details."

It was his first intervention in that conversation. It wouldn't be his last. It wouldn't even be his last in the next ten seconds.

"Right. So anyway, Bella. Happy housewarming. You and Edward can figure out what to do with this, right?"

Bella, still a little rattled from both Edward's gift and his kiss, missed an implication she typically wouldn't have. "Do with it?" she walked innocently into Emmett's trap.

"Emmett. Stop talking," Edward pled.

Mischief sparkled in Emmett's eyes. "Well, it's extra soft, for one thing, so no rug burn. And that close to the fire, the cold won't be an issue. You can pre-heat my brother."

Edward's expression was horrified. This was even worse than the first time he brought her home to meet his family. Way worse.

There wasn't much way for Bella to miss Emmett's meaning that time. She turned pink to the top of her hairline. She was also biting her lip to hide a smile, whether at Emmett's quip or the horror on her mate's face, Edward wasn't certain.

"Emmett, so help me God..." Edward started with a sigh, but the door to the cottage swung open before he could finish.

"Idiot." That came from Alice, though affectionately. The entire Cullen family had, of course, been standing guard outside the whole time they were there, as being truly alone in the cottage was still an impossibility so long as Victoria and Albert had a shield at their disposal. They had now decided the time was right to bring in one more gift and rescue Edward from Emmett.

He was grateful. Although since his sister could see the future, he had some questions about their timing.

They couldn't have come in five seconds earlier and spared him _that_?

Not that Emmett's suggestion wasn't an intriguing one, and possibly even one Edward intended to one day take advantage of — the warmth part, at the very least — but _still._

"Another housewarming present," said a smiling Carlisle, carrying in a rocking chair that he set down in the middle of the rug in front of the fireplace. "Alice tells us this will be your favorite seat in the house someday."

Edward shot a warning glare at a grinning Emmett, its meaning clear — _don't even think it._ His brother just grinned wider, showing his teeth. He'd made _Edward_ think it first, and that counted as an even greater victory.

_Or her second favorite_ , Emmett couldn't resist sending his way anyway, but at least he did it silently.

"You're going to _love_ it," Alice enthused to Bella. "I see you spending hours there reading."

_"Reading?_ I give up. They're hopeless," Emmett whined to Rosalie, who didn't intend to get dragged into his madness. She hit him with a sharp elbow before Edward had to.

"Congratulations, dear," Esme said warmly, coming to hug Bella. "I always intended this place for you both."

Edward moved to her side, picking up on the fact that Bella was starting to look a little overwhelmed again. It wasn't like they were moving in immediately, but his overeager family was certainly making it sound that way. Their intention was simply to show Bella their full approval of her sharing ownership of the little cottage with Edward, but they were overdoing it.

He slipped his arm around Bella's waist for support and answered Esme himself. "Thank you for all the work you did on it today. It will be more comfortable for Bella now, whenever we drop by after school to work on it."

Esme beamed, but she also caught his hint, saw what he was doing. "My part was easy. Bella did a wonderful job picking everything out. It's going to be a lovely home for you both, one day. It will be here when you're both ready."

And as Bella relaxed into his side and thanked Esme herself, growing more animated by the moment as Esme and Alice drew her into a conversation about the decor, Edward agreed with that sentiment wholeheartedly.

A place of his own, with Bella at his side. Even the presence of his family surrounding them, full of love and well wishes...

It was everything he'd ever wanted — with the possible exception of making Bella his wife first.

And it was all within his reach. He just had to stop the monsters who wanted to take it all away from him.

_All_ of the monsters. Wolves included.

* * *

Edward had nearly let himself begin to believe that he could simply delay their impending fight over Jacob Black forever.

Deep down, he knew that wasn't likely.

He still wasn't prepared for it when it came. Not the _way_ it came.

He'd taken Bella home after a pleasant afternoon spent with his family, all working together in the little house. A _mostly_ pleasant afternoon, once he'd surreptitiously slapped Emmett in the back of the head and threatened his life if he mentioned that rug even _one more time._

It wasn't the same, not being alone together there. But it was a compromise, and a necessary one at that. Bella was obviously happier at the cottage than anywhere else — and so his whole family was willing to _help_ her be there, by being there to protect them.

He dropped Bella off at her door on the dot of 6 o'clock, delivering her to a scowling Charlie, who couldn't be bothered to disappear even long enough for Edward to give his mate a quick 'goodbye' kiss. So Edward just quickly moved his car out of sight and went in Bella's window to wait for her there. Rosalie and Carlisle were already stationed outside, he noted with satisfaction.

The very first thing he noticed when Charlie opened the front door was that the house reeked of wolf, although thankfully Bella's bedroom did not. Billy and Jacob Black had been by to visit Charlie earlier, it appeared, so Edward was now dreading listening in on dinner. He fully expected Charlie to push the Jacob issue again, reiterate his request for Bella to call Jacob. And putting a stop to that, when Charlie had no idea he was in the house, would be problematic at best.

To his relief, Charlie didn't. He thought about it briefly. But her father had been surprised that Bella agreed so readily that morning to his restrictions on her time with Edward. He wasn't going to push his luck that night. He'd table the issue for a few more days, at least, since Jacob surprisingly hadn't said a word about it when he and Billy dropped by earlier.

Edward believed he'd gotten lucky. Everything seemed great, in fact, until Bella went for her shower.

He heard nothing strange. She might have spent a little more time there than usual, but he didn't hear her crying or anything else that alarmed him.

But when she came out and they went to bed, she was just...quiet. More so than usual. Like something was on her mind.

She still snuggled up against him in her bed. She was receptive to his kiss... _very_ receptive, causing him to have to slow things down more quickly than he really wanted, the moment he started feeling the urge to pull her body underneath him and start running his lips down that creamy throat.

But something was just _off_. He couldn't put his finger on it.

It continued the next morning on the way to school, too. Something was bothering her, something that had her distracted.

And this time, he didn't intend to let it go on for much longer without finding out what. He'd give her a reasonable amount of time to volunteer it, but he still meant what he had said about not letting her run from him anymore.

But in their first class, where they shared a two-person table, Bella blindsided him. Just a few minutes into class, she pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded and flattened it in her lap beneath the table, and then slid it underneath his hand on the table surface.

He caught a hint of wolf odor the moment she started unfolding it. So he had a pretty good idea already of what had happened.

Jacob must have hidden a note for Bella to find in her bathroom, when he and Billy came by to see Charlie. He'd been smart enough not to go in her bedroom, knowing Edward would have found the note first if he left it there. And, of course, he knew that it would never occur to Edward to question the presence of a guest's scent in common areas of the house — like the bathroom.

He quickly scanned the paper. The passive-aggressive manipulativeness of it pissed him off as much as the actual content.

_Hey, Bells._

_So I guess you really don't need me anymore, just like your bloodsucker said when I came to the school to try to see you. So I guess this is goodbye or something._

_I thought we were best friends. So I thought maybe you'd at least call and let me know you're okay. I tried to call you at least a hundred times after your pet leeches tattled to Sam and made me leave. You know that's what they did, right? They had me forbidden to set foot on their property. Did you even notice?_

_I've been worried about you, even if you never thought of me again. I called their house over and over. I sent letters. He didn't tell you about any of that, did he?_

_You still could have called me._

_He's got his hooks in you again, Bella, and I hate it. He's going to hurt you, just like last time. He's just going to leave you again, or he's going to hurt you some other way. I'll be here when you need me again. I just wish it wasn't so easy for you to forget all the time we spent together and go back to him like I never existed. But whatever. It won't last forever._

_Jake_

Edward read it three times, trying to get his temper under control before he glanced down at Bella at his side. She was peeking up at him too, and the question in her eyes was clear.

Equally clear was her reason for waiting to bring it up until they were in school, where they couldn't actually _talk_. Bella wanted to confront him. She also was still scared to death of getting into a conflict with him, after what Alice had implied about them fighting. Jacob's cruel predictions of Edward inevitably leaving her again probably didn't help, either.

He'd seen Bella's face every single time she woke up in a panic in her room her first night home, terrified he would be missing, so it wasn't too much of a leap to figure out what she was afraid would happen.

She feared he might leave her again if they ever argued.

And that wasn't going to work. If Bella was afraid to tell him when something he did bothered her, that scared _him_. On a few levels.

Edward pocketed Jacob's note, because he'd be damned if Bella was absorbing any more of those poisonous words into her system, then detached a sheet of paper from his own notebook and quickly scrawled his own note.

_I'm sorry he spoke to you that way. We'll talk about this after school. I promise._

Bella exhaled with audible frustration and pulled the paper in front of her to write on it.

_No, we'll talk about it now. Did you do what he said?_

Edward sighed, stretched his arm over to her side and quickly wrote his reply.

_This isn't talking, love. But yes, I did._

Bella sat and stared at him in shock, noticeably enough that the teacher was starting to notice it, eying them with suspicion. So Edward nudged her knee with his, gluing his eyes on the chalkboard. Bella got it, relaxing her posture and pretending to pay attention.

_Why?_ she wrote after a few minutes, sliding the paper back toward him.

_I have my reasons. I'll be glad to discuss them with you later. But not like this._

Her shoulders dropped visibly, defeat filling her frame. She pulled the paper back, quickly wrote something on it, then shoved it back under his hand and fixed her eyes on the teacher like the conversation was over.

And apparently, it was.

_Never mind. Just forget it. I don't want to fight._

Edward's guts clenched. This was not healthy, Bella being so afraid of doing anything that could possibly make him leave her that she would just give in to avoid conflict. He didn't want to fight either, but he liked _this_ even less.

What if she did the same thing in other contexts? Like if she became uncomfortable with his touch when he was kissing her in her bed — like the night before, when he'd only narrowly remembered it might not be a good idea to pull her body beneath his — and she didn't want to tell him for fear of upsetting him? The thought chilled his already icy bones.

One thing was for certain: they were not taking any more steps forward in their physical relationship until _this_ problem was fixed, and he didn't mean Jacob Black. He was slowing that _way_ down, until he knew Bella would be honest with him.

_We're not going to_ _fight_ , he wrote back. _We're going to talk. And it's going to be okay._

She probably didn't even realize she'd done it, but Bella angled her body facing slightly away from his, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. He could smell the salt of the frustrated tears starting to well up in her eyes.

Being the cause of her tears affected him much like it always did — like a hard kick to the teeth. On the other hand, he wasn't prepared to back down on his position regarding Jacob. But he couldn't let her sit there and cry without saying _something._

He debated with himself for only a few moments before scrawling one last thing on the bottom of the page. And he meant it.

_I should have just been honest with you from the beginning. For that much, I am sorry. I'll explain the rest to you tonight._

That at least earned him a flick of her eyes in his direction. And finally, a small nod of acceptance.

* * *

If he was of a mind to, he actually _could_ have put it off forever.

Bella certainly wasn't ever going to bring it up again. That much was clear. He gave her every chance to do so.

He'd hoped she might broach the subject in the car that afternoon, or maybe when he took her to the cottage for a little while after school to work in the library, helping arrange his considerable collection of books and music onto half of the shelves — the other half being reserved for Bella, whose own collection didn't yet require so much space but gave him some great ideas for easing her into gift-receiving. Maybe she would take books from him, and they could work up to jewelry later. Some nice first editions of her favorites, maybe...

Even when he drove her home at 6 o'clock, he gave her every opportunity in the car to bring up the topic of Jacob herself.

It would have made him feel a little better if she confronted him face-to-face on her own. He desperately wanted to know she felt comfortable enough with him to bring up issues without being pushed. He was a little afraid to even touch her until he knew that.

But she never said a word about it.

She was still a little upset with him, though. That was clear too, no matter how much she tried not to make it obvious.

He also knew her well enough to know that while she might have backed down from _discussing_ it, she wouldn't let it go entirely. More likely, she'd just go behind his back to contact Jacob the very first chance she got, and he couldn't have that either.

They definitely needed to talk. If he had to force the issue, so be it.

So when she came into her room after her shower that night, he wasn't in his customary place, leaning against her headboard and waiting for her to slip into his arms and go to sleep. He was sitting in her desk chair, turned to face the door, hands folded in his lap, waiting to address the issue between them.

No more chances for her to start the conversation. He was taking this into his own hands.

And she must have known that the moment she saw him, because she instantly stopped in her tracks. She eyed him, licking her lips nervously.

And his expression softened. He _hated_ the fear in her eyes. Hated that he knew he had caused it by leaving her the first time. Hated that some part of her was still waiting for him to do it again.

"Come here, love," he said gently, standing to his feet and holding out his hand. "Please don't look at me like that. It's going to be okay."

But it wasn't. Not at that exact moment, anyway. Because for the second time since he'd been home, he watched as her eyes went wide, fixating on his outstretched hand, reaching for her.

And this time, he saw it coming a split second before her gaze went glassy and unfocused.

_His hand_. He had been reaching out for her to take his hand the same way, that first time Bella experienced a flashback with him, pushing her into an uncomfortable conversation that time as well, but he hadn't made the connection before. He hadn't had time to figure out the trigger that day or even just straight-out ask her about it before everything went sideways, leading into the worst fight they'd ever had.

But this time he had a pretty good idea what he'd done wrong. Just a few seconds too late.

* * *

Bella's hands came up over her face, her breath coming in pants and gasps as she tried desperately to hold on, not to give in to the roiling waves of terror and disorientation that threatened to break over her, drag her under, take her to another place and time where she desperately didn't want to be.

She had fought it down successfully so many times in the last two days.

But this one was different.

It hadn't happened quite like this since the first time, in their cottage, when Edward had reached for her while pushing her to open up, to talk to him about things she was terrified to tell him.

And all she had seen was Albert standing in her back yard, reaching for her.

_Give me your hand, Bella,_ the monster had said. _Just come with me, and I'll explain everything._

All the times since — like in the funeral home bathroom, or the school hallway when her friends rushed her, even being interrogated by Jessica in English class — she had been able to hold on. She'd been able to keep her head above the surface, above the waves as they broke around her.

_It's not real_ , she had learned to tell herself over and over in her mind. _It's not real. It's not real._

But this time certainly _felt_ real.

It was _him_ in front of her, her terror screamed in her ear. Albert. It was _him_. Standing in front of her, reaching for her, disguised as Edward.

_Run._

He was going to hurt her.

But he wasn't, she reminded herself firmly. Not really.

Because it was Edward. The _real_ Edward. And Edward would never, ever hurt her.

Some part of her understood that, and she could fight for that part. She still wasn't as deep as she'd been the first time.

She took a deep breath. Then another. And another. She thought about that look on Edward's face in the picture above his fireplace. No one who looked at her that way would hurt her.

Slowly, the image of Albert's outstretched hand started to fade.

_It's not real_. _It's not real._

She didn't even realize she'd said those words out loud until Edward's voice broke through, like it came from underwater, slowly coming into focus. And he was replying to her statement.

"You're right. It's not. It's only me, Bella. You're safe. Try to tell me what you're seeing right now."

* * *

Edward moved toward her slowly, working on keeping his tone even. Pushing her any farther scared him, but so did not knowing with certainty what he'd done to cause this. He had to know for sure what she was seeing when he reached for her. Maybe he could help her get past it. At the very least, he could just never, _never_ make that mistake again.

Bella shook her head back and forth, her face still covered. "I can't. I — I can't _breathe_."

His relief that she was at least somewhat responsive to him this time was tremendous. She _was_ breathing, whether she felt like she was or not — he was pretty intently attuned to her respiration and knew that for a fact — and the fact that he got any answer at all meant that he was getting through already. That was better than last time this happened.

"It's my hand, isn't it?" he asked softly. "When I reached for you? He did that too, didn't he?"

This time she nodded, but her breathing was slowing down and deepening. She was fighting it and fighting it hard. A surge of pride welled up in him at her strength.

"You're doing fine, Bella. Just keep breathing. Try to tell me about it. When did that happen?"

She took several deep breaths. "Outside," she told him through her fingers. "Here. When he first took me. He wanted me to give him my hand."

Edward breathed in deep. So he was right. That _was_ it _—_ his outstretched hand, beckoning her to him, just too reminiscent of how Albert had lured her to him, convincing her to hand herself over to him.

That part of the story he had been witness to, in terrifying detail. And Bella likely didn't know that.

"I was still on the phone for some of that," he told her, his voice full of gravel at the awful memory. "It haunts me too. I was listening to you get closer and closer to him, knowing you believed it was me. It scared me worse than I can describe to you, sweetheart. You can't imagine how terrified I was for you."

He had her full attention now. Her hands dropped down just slightly, enough to uncover her eyes, which peeked out at him. Her focus had shifted from her own terror to his. He hadn't done that intentionally, but it worked anyway.

"You were there with me?" she whispered hopefully.

And his heart felt like it shattered. He'd give anything if that were true. _Anything_. Because if he was _really_ there, he would have put a stop to it. He'd have ripped Albert limb from limb before he ever got close enough to touch her — if he had really been there.

They saw this issue very differently. He saw only the greatest failure of his existence, the moment he'd let his mate down in the worst possible way. But he understood her viewpoint too. He understood why, in some small way, it comforted her to know he had been as present as he possibly could.

And this was about _her_ , not him.

"I was there, Bella." And goddamn if that wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever had to say in his life. "I talked to you, but you didn't hear me. I begged you to stop going toward him. I tried desperately to tell you it wasn't me, but you never heard me. I knew _he_ could, though. I told him you belonged to me, that I was coming after you. I threatened him — promised to hunt him down if he hurt you. And then the line just...went dead."

He couldn't fully convey the horror he'd felt at that point in words, but Bella suddenly closed the distance and put her arms around him in sympathy, her own terror forgotten. His arms closed around her, oh so carefully.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, squeezing him tightly. She was trying to comfort _him_ now, and it made his heart ache. "He took the phone away from me. I didn't know you were on it, Edward. I was so confused. I really thought he was you. I thought he had lied on the phone about being in Brazil, that you just hadn't meant for me to see you out there."

That mixture of he, him, and you — all mixed up again like she didn't know the difference — tied his guts up in knots almost as much as the flashback. She was making progress, undoubtedly. But there was still a lot of healing left to do.

For both of them.

He carefully began running his fingers through her hair, soothingly. "I never lied to you. It was me on the phone. I was in Brazil the entire time," he assured her, trying to keep the focus on himself, instead of her.

"I was on a chartered jet within an hour after that, going out of my mind while my family looked for you. It took 15 hours just to get to Seattle, with refueling. You have no idea, Bella. No idea how completely out of control I was all those hours, not being able to _do_ anything. If he had killed you...God, I don't know what I might have done; what I would be capable of. All I wanted was to get to you, to _find_ you."

She whimpered, pressing tighter to him. "Don't think about it anymore."

"I don't know how not to," he confessed hoarsely. Reliving those hours...it was as close as he could probably get to a flashback himself.

She pulled back, looked up at him, her hands caressing his back. "Just hold me? Please. I don't want to fight about Jacob tonight."

He hesitated. All he wanted was the same thing — just to have her close right then. And she seemed exhausted.

"You'll agree to talk to me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow morning," she promised strongly. "Before school. Wake me up early."

The purr had already started in his chest, so he was pretty sure she already knew she had won. "I'm going to hold you to that, Bella," he informed her as firmly as he could manage right then — which wasn't very.

And then he reached down and scooped her up into his arms. Bypassing the bed, he took her straight back to that chair by the window. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite places. She'd been there so long, alone, wanting him back. Being there with her felt like, in some small way, he could begin to make those hours up to her.

He only intended to hold her, cuddle her. But Bella quickly found his lips, her hands soft on his cheeks. She gave him one long, searching kiss, pulled back to look into his eyes when he was hesitant.

"I'm okay now," she promised him, reading him like a book, stroking his face between her hands. Her eyes dropped down to his lips. "I promise, Edward. I'm really okay."

He responded by pulling her to him again, kissing her slowly, as deeply as he could without putting her in danger from his teeth.

It didn't heat up any farther than that. Neither of them tried to make it do so. He just kept kissing her for quite a long time after that — deep, slow, healing kisses, full of tenderness and love — until he reluctantly reminded her she had to get up early in the morning and pronounced it to be bedtime.

* * *

There were more kisses in the morning, when he woke her up and she smiled contentedly up into his face. She'd been lying on her back, and he was propped up on his side beside her, stroking her cheek to awaken her.

It was the very first time since she'd returned to her home that she hadn't opened her eyes in a frantic search for him, not relaxing until she found him. And it made his morning.

"Hi," she whispered sleepily, like he hadn't just been there all night, breathing her in with every one of his senses and thanking every deity he could think of that she was right there safely beside him. He couldn't help his chuckle.

"Hi." That word didn't quite cover what he was feeling.

But it was the last word either of them said for a while. Bella reached up with her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her lips, absolutely dazzling _him_ with the love in her eyes. He very carefully kept his weight off of her, all too aware of the way he hovered partially above her. Her heart raced and she arched her torso up against him, but he didn't allow himself to be pulled any farther on top of her. He stayed to her side.

His plans for getting her up early enough to have that talk were on their way right out the window. Bella seemed quite happy to have him right where he was, and she was fairly insistent about it. He wasn't really feeling the urge to call her on it, even if it _was_ a stall tactic.

But to his utter delight, after she eventually remembered that she preferred to have a human moment before kissing him in the morning and abruptly pushed him away, clamping her hand over her mouth — as though he even remotely _cared_ about something so trivial as morning breath — she came back into the room from brushing her teeth with a determined look on her face.

She sat down cross-legged in the middle of her bed, looked him straight in the eye. "Okay. I promised. Talk."

Good enough. He sat down the same way, facing her, and reached out to take her hand in his — without holding his own hand out in offering, as he'd done the night before. He took a deep breath, hoping she'd still want to kiss him when this conversation was done.

"First of all, I want to make one thing clear. Jacob was way out of line in what he said to you in that letter. I'm _never_ going to leave you again, Bella. Not now, not ever. Not even when we fight."

She dropped her eyes, her expression remorseful as she nodded. "I know that."

He cupped her cheek firmly with his free hand, brought her focus back up to his face. "Do you? I'm not so convinced. Yesterday, you seemed terrified to talk to me about this, and that concerns me, love. At the very least, I need to know you'll tell me if I do something you don't like. Especially when I touch you."

Her hand came up to grip his wrist, holding his hand against her face. "I will. It's not that. I just hated the idea of fighting with you. Going back to school, coming home...it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I — I just _need_ you too much right now. I can't stand the thought of being mad at you. I can't stand the thought of you being mad at _me_."

His lips turned up in a soft smile, some of his fear easing. "So you're willing to admit you're mad at me?"

She sighed, turned pink, and he lowered his hand from the very distracting warmth suffusing her cheek. "Yes. I mean, I think so. You haven't told me _why_ you did it. Jacob's my friend. Why would you go behind my back to keep him away?"

He grew serious. This was the heart of the matter, the part about which he had no intentions of backing down.

"Because being around him puts you in danger. He knows that himself. It's why he cut off contact with you after the first time he phased. Young werewolves have very little control over their transformations, especially under stress. He knows very well what could happen if he changed into wolf form with you close by."

Bella shook her head vehemently. "No. I don't believe that. Jacob wouldn't hurt me, Edward. He just _wouldn't_."

Edward sighed. He'd hoped not to have to go this route. "He could and he would, no matter how much he cares about you. Have you ever met Sam Uley's fiancée? Emily?"

Bella looked confused. "No. Have _you?"_

"No. But I've seen the thoughts of the entire pack, including Sam's. While Jacob was staying with us, he would go outside sometimes to run, to link up with the pack."

"Link up?"

"Telepathically, so to speak. The wolves can hear each other's thoughts, much like I do, but with a far greater range. When Jacob was within my range in wolf form, I could hear them. _All_ of them. There's very little about them I don't know now."

Bella was trying to keep up. "What does Sam's fiancée have to do with any of this?"

"Everything. The wolves have something similar to the mating bond we share. _Imprinting_. Emily isn't just Sam's fiancée. She's his imprint. She's absolutely everything to him, his sole reason for existing — something far less but not incomparable to the depth of my feelings for you."

"I still don't understand."

Edward didn't even blink. "Despite all of that, Sam lost control and shredded his beloved's face with his claws. Emily will be horribly scarred, disfigured for the rest of her life. And yet she's lucky, because he could have very easily killed her. He could yet, despite how very much he loves her. It would take one instant, one brief moment of him losing control and phasing when she's too close."

Bella blanched, her lips parting. "Oh my God. That's awful."

"It is. And I'm not going to let it happen to you. The wolves pose a risk, Bella. A threat to your safety. And I believe we've already established that I'm unable to simply ignore anything that puts you in danger."

She nodded slowly, processing, and for just a moment he thought she was going to see things his way.

He really, really should have known better.

"But I can't just turn my back on him, Edward," she argued. "I won't just stop being his friend. I've known him since we were little kids. His dad and my dad are best friends. He's become _my_ best friend. He was there for me when..."

And she hesitated.

"When I wasn't?" The sharpness of his own tone surprised him, the bitter jealousy in it. Hearing her defend Jacob so passionately was an extremely unwelcome surprise.

Bella licked her lips. "When you were gone," she finished carefully. "And besides, how is it any different than..."

And then she seemed to realize what she had been about to say, and her mouth clamped shut. Her gaze shifted away, her hand squeezing his tighter as she shifted uncomfortably. "Never mind."

It wasn't like the thought hadn't already occurred to him. He'd have to be a complete hypocrite not to have thought about it even as the words were coming out of his mouth — all of his judgmental words about loss of control and the threat of grave physical injury or death.

It still hurt that Bella would even come _that_ close to throwing it in his face, in defense of Jacob Black.

"I suppose it's really not any different," he said quietly. "Yes, I could kill you just as easily as he could, with one slip of my strength. I'm all too aware of that, Bella. At least I finally know you are too."

"Okay, stop it," Bella protested, her eyes narrowing. "That's not fair. My point is that _neither_ one of you would hurt me. I know you both _could_. But you _wouldn't."_

"And my point is that I've had nearly a century to learn to control my strength, coupled with the fact that you're my _mate._ That's a far more powerful bond than imprinting. Even the _thought_ of harming you is terrifying enough to keep me in check. Plus, from a purely selfish perspective, I've lived through seven months without you. I know I wouldn't survive that again. Jacob doesn't have any of those advantages. He's only been a wolf for weeks."

But Bella didn't back down.

"No. I don't buy it. He couldn't _transform_ over the phone or through a letter. You didn't even let me communicate with him _that_ way. So don't tell me it's just about my safety. What's this really about, Edward?"

He clamped down on the surge of frustration that flooded him. It wasn't directed at Bella — at least not fully.

"Fine. Are you aware that he's in love with you?"

To tell the truth, he'd truly believed Bella was oblivious to that fact. That had been his ace up his sleeve, the revelation that was supposed to turn the conversation his way. Surely his mate would never expect him — an extremely possessive vampire — to allow her to spend time with another man who had feelings for her.

But Bella bit her lip, her gaze falling to study their linked hands, her expression one of complete guilt.

And Edward's stomach dropped like a stone.

"You _are_ aware of it," he heard himself say in shock, as he tried to maintain his grip on the possessive monster rattling its cage door.

"Yes," she admitted quietly, then grew defensive. "We went to a movie, right before he stopped talking to me. And...and he hinted at how he felt that night. But I made it clear I don't see him that way. He knows I just want to be friends."

Edward's eyes flashed with anger. "He hinted. What does that mean, exactly? Did he touch you?"

She hesitated. "He just wanted to hold my hand. I didn't let him."

Edward made a concerted effort to take the bite out of his tone before Bella could misconstrue his anger. His anger toward _Jacob_.

"Then you understand yet another of my reasons why I don't want you near him."

Bella looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Wait. Are you actually _jealous?"_

There was really no point in denying it. "Of course I am. You read his note, Bella. He was fairly clear about the fact that he wants to take you away from me."

Her expression softened, her thumb rubbing over his hand. "He can't, you know. Nobody can. You're my mate too, remember?"

His eyes bored into her, his demeanor more intense than he would have liked. "I never forget that for an instant. Nor can I forget that you're mine. So I would have to be certifiably insane to encourage you spending time with my rival for your affection."

She studied him for a few seconds, and he would have given a lot to know what she was thinking. He was surprised at her clear, direct response.

"I'm not asking you to encourage it. I'm asking you not to undermine it. He's my friend. That's all."

It was a valid argument. Some rational, human part of him got that. Alice's earlier caution to rein in his possessive urges rang in his ears — _She's still not a vampire, Edward. She's not going to completely understand how you feel about this._

His vampire side, on the other hand, having recently been given free rein to handle things, dug in its heels and took its stand.

"I can't do that. He's a danger to you, Bella. I don't want you around him or any of the other wolves, for that matter. I've explained my reasons why, and I hope you'll agree willingly not to see him. But if I have to, I'll forbid it."

Going full dominant vampire with his mate had worked once before. It became pretty immediately clear that it wasn't going to this time. Leave it to Bella to respond like a vampire only in _some_ areas and not others.

Her jaw dropped open, her hand jerking out of his. "You'll _forbid_ it?" she repeated incredulously. "You can't do that!"

He didn't even flinch. "I think you'll find that I can and will."

Bella's face filled with anger. "I'm going to see him, Edward. I'm going to talk to _my friend_. I'll find a way, whether you _forbid_ it or not."

Edward nodded sadly. He'd been afraid all along that it might come to this. "And I'll find a way to stop you."

She jumped up off the bed, started angrily yanking clothes out of her closet for school, so furious she wouldn't even look at him. "This conversation is over."

* * *

The ride to school was a frosty one, to say the least.

Bella was still busy trying to wrap her mind around the _completely crazy_ thing Edward had said about not _allowing_ her to talk to Jacob.

She was absolutely seething over it.

And things didn't get any better when the school day started.

It didn't help that it was completely necessary for Edward to still be practically attached to her side. He didn't go out of his way to touch her constantly, like normal, but he still kept a protective arm around her waist whenever they were in transition from one place to another, his carefully stoic eyes still watchful.

Lunchtime was probably the most uncomfortable part of her day, up to that point. There was little doubt that all of the Cullens knew exactly what was going on. Two of them would have been stationed outside her window during the fight, and she knew that. She didn't know _which_ two, and she didn't want to. It was mortifying enough.

She couldn't help wondering whose side they were all on. Not one of them said a single word to either her or Edward, and it was getting awkward.

She was doing only a slightly better job of actually eating anything than the Cullens, as they all pushed food around their plates. The only difference was that she actually took occasional nibbles of hers. Her stomach felt like it was full of rocks ever since what happened that morning.

But all of a sudden, she forgot all of it when her mate's body snapped upright, his eyes locking on Alice — just as Alice went into trance mode.

Edward's protective arm, the one that usually would have been clamped around Bella's waist the entire time they were in the cafeteria anyway, suddenly made a reappearance. It locked down around her almost _painfully_ tight.

She barely noticed that part.

Alice's eyes were as wide as Bella had ever seen them.

A sharp growl came out of Edward, one she briefly feared was audible to the surrounding tables. She was too terrified to dwell on it.

Emmett, on her other side, moved closer, his muscles subtly coiling. He didn't know what was happening either. His huge arm hovered behind her back, not quite touching her, his eyes roving the area. Jasper was focused only on Alice, and Rosalie sniffed the air, looking just as ready for a fight as Emmett.

"What is it?" Bella managed to squeak. One hand clawed at Edward's leg beside her. "Edward? How bad is it?" She dug the fingernails of her other hand into his wrist that was pressed deep into her side, and he seemed to remember himself. The intensity of his grip slackened.

But his eyes, when they turned on her, were practically blazing. He looked...terrifying. Like he was getting ready to tear something apart, and he was going to enjoy it.

"Not bad," he grated. " _Good_. She slipped up, Bella. We know where she's going to be. I'm taking out Victoria. _Tonight_."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	18. Tension

Chapter 18

The rest of Bella's day passed in a blur after Alice's vision and Edward's terrifying pronouncement about going after Victoria that night.

For the remainder of lunch, the Cullens all talked amongst themselves, rapid-fire and far too quietly for Bella to understand much of what was going on. And no one, including Edward, saw fit to include her in the conversation — which, she got the impression, soon turned into an argument about _her_.

About what to do with her while they were all out monster-chasing, probably. She thought she picked up on that much. They were trying to figure out who should get stuck babysitting her.

At some point, Edward abruptly stood from the table with a snarl, after arguing with Rosalie. He looked furious.

"I'll be back in a moment," he told Bella formally, still glaring at his sister and only briefly glancing his mate's way so she would know he was speaking to her. "I need to make a call and arrange some backup. Alice, take my place, please."

Bella couldn't even protest his departure before Alice slid into the seat beside her. As she watched his angrily retreating back storming out of the cafeteria, it felt like she was going into shock. She couldn't do this right now — Edward leaving that very night to face danger, when she was still so angry that she barely wanted to speak to him. Not when the idea of him going up against Victoria made her just want to grab hold of him and hang on for dear life.

Conflicted didn't begin to describe how she felt, even when he returned before the end of lunch and slid back gracefully into his place beside her — and kept his hands completely to himself.

If Edward noticed her internal struggle, he didn't let on. He appeared lost in his own thoughts... or his violently destructive fantasies about obliterating Victoria, as was more likely the case.

He remained distracted throughout their remaining class together after lunch, and soon it was time for him to leave Bella in English class. He didn't seem to know exactly how to say goodbye, hesitating at the door. The few days before that, he had kissed her either on the lips or the forehead, maybe on the back of the hand, depending just how closely they were under scrutiny. This time, with the full knowledge of exactly how pissed off she was at him for forbidding her to see Jacob, he looked uncertain what to do.

He ended up keeping his hands to himself, while Bella clutched the strap of her backpack and bit her lip, fighting the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes as she looked up at him. She didn't really know what to say, either.

She'd never been _this_ kind of angry with him before, not quite like this. When there had been distance between them before, it had been fueled by her insecurities and fears. She had _wanted_ him close but hadn't been able to trust he wanted the same, so she'd pushed him away. But this type of pure anger was uncharted territory for them both.

"I'll be right next door," Edward promised softly, after a beat, still watching her intently. "When the bell rings, I'll be here to walk you to gym and drop you off with Emmett, but I won't be in my last-period class while you're with him. I have a few more calls to make, so I'll be in my car. I'll still pick you up afterward and drive you home."

Her admittedly immature mental response vacillated somewhere between the wild extremes of _Please don't leave me_ and _Just go to class already, jerkface._

She didn't say either one. She didn't really _mean_ either one, although it made her even angrier that she was heavily leaning toward _please don't leave me_ , if she had to pick one. But she could _not_ just give in on this, let him think he could so casually throw around words like "forbid" and "allow" _._

He might be from the early 1900s and also a vampire. She was neither...yet. If he ever _did_ manage to talk her into that whole wedding thing, the word "obey" was going to be conspicuously absent from their vows.

So she stared at the center of his forehead, carefully not making eye contact — mostly because she knew she would fold immediately.

"Okay," she replied as she nodded, bobbed one shoulder in what was probably the world's worst imitation of nonchalance. "I guess I'll see you then."

His expression had been very intentionally neutral since right after she stopped speaking to him that morning, but it faltered for just a second, betraying the worry he felt — which immediately pulled her focus, despite her determination not to look directly into his eyes.

"Yes, you will, Bella. I'm not going anywhere."

_Damn it_ , why did he have to be so sweet, so careful to reassure her? It made it ridiculously hard to stay mad at him.

It was even harder to turn her back and walk to her seat, feeling his eyes on her all the way there. She couldn't resist a peek as she turned and sat down. Her stomach felt like it flipped over inside her at the intensity in his gaze. He stood just outside the doorway, until her eyes briefly brushed across his. He was making sure she knew he was still there.

Only then, after their eyes met, did he reluctantly leave and go to class.

* * *

True to his word, Edward was waiting for her at the classroom door when the bell rang. Her heart didn't stop thudding in her chest like it was trying to escape until she saw him there, safe and sound.

Nonetheless, he didn't reach for her, and she left a good foot of space between them as he escorted her first to the bathroom to meet his sisters and change into her gym clothes, and then the rest of the way to meet Emmett. Not a word was said between them. He seemed distracted again anyway.

She didn't have the guts to make eye contact or conversation with Alice in the bathroom, either. She already knew whose side Alice was on. Her words of warning played in Bella's mind on repeat — _try to keep in mind that every single thing my brother does is only because he loves you and can't bear the thought of losing you. Even the stupid stuff._

Rosalie didn't speak to her either, but there was nothing remotely unusual about that. Being largely ignored by Rosalie was just par for the course.

When she reached Emmett's side, Edward left so quickly that she didn't even realize he was going. She nearly panicked when she turned around and he was already gone.

She must have looked truly lost, because even big, tough Emmet softened when he saw her face. He slung a huge, beefy arm around her shoulders and led her into the gym.

"Don't worry about it. He's got a lot to do in the next hour. He's going a little nuts right now trying to keep you safe when we leave tonight."

It hit her like a lightning bolt. That backup Edward talked about arranging? It wasn't for himself. It was for _her._

Emmett couldn't miss her reaction, because she froze in her tracks, staring up at him as all the color left her face. His arm around her gave her a squeeze — to the point she almost couldn't breathe. "Relax. He'll be back before you know it. Wild grizzly bears couldn't keep him away."

It wasn't wild grizzly bears she was worried about. It was vengeful, murderous vampires who could easily be luring her mate into a trap that very night.

* * *

It was all she could do not to run straight into Edward's arms when she and Emmett left gym class and he was _there,_ waiting for her, just like he'd said he would be.

Instead, she slowed her steps, avoided eye contact with him while Emmett verified his identity. She walked with her arms crossed over her chest all the way to Edward's car, her body language practically screaming _don't touch me._

And he didn't.

But that resolve lasted only until Edward slid into the driver's seat of his Volvo. Those few seconds after he opened and closed her door for her, when he was walking around the car to his side, seemed interminable. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"When do you leave?" she pled the very moment his door closed behind him, doing an absolutely horrible job of hiding her terror over that prospect.

He looked over at her in surprise, going still. He had apparently expected her silent treatment to continue.

"In just about an hour," he replied softly, searching her eyes. He made no move to start the car, his full attention on her. "It will be just before dawn when we ambush Victoria, but we all need to hunt first. We're going to leave as soon as I get you safely set up at my house...or my parents' house, that is."

Bella squirmed in her seat. She didn't necessarily _want_ to spend the weekend at the Cullen house, especially without Edward. What she wanted was to find her way down to La Push while Edward was gone and set Jacob straight for some of the nonsense he said in that letter — face-to-face, where he couldn't act like a child and hang up on her, as she suspected he might when she called him out for his passive-aggressive bullcrap. She was almost as mad at him as she was at Edward.

Almost. The part of her that wasn't angry at Jacob felt _guilty_ about hurting him the way she clearly had. The truth was that once she had Edward back, she _had_ nearly forgotten all about Jacob the moment he left the Cullen house. And she didn't like what that said about her.

Maybe Charlie was right about her making feel Jacob feel the same way she felt when Edward left. There had been times during those seven months that if she had known where he was, she'd have gladly sent Edward an angry letter lashing out at him for abandoning her, much like the one Jacob left for her.

But it wasn't like she could tell Edward any of that. He didn't need more ammo. He wasn't likely to agree to her going anywhere near La Push anyway, and he would just take both her anger and her guilt as undeniable proof that he was right to keep her away. So she focused her response on the logistics, instead.

"What about Charlie?" she asked curiously. "He's not going to let me go back to your house overnight with you there."

He had an answer, of course.

"Esme and I took care of that, while you were in gym. She called and told him I'm leaving right after school today to spend the weekend camping with my brothers, and that Alice was begging for you to come over for a girl's weekend. He wasn't thrilled about it, when you've only been home a few days, but he _did_ tell you he wanted you to spend more time with friends. And he isn't good at saying no to Alice. We're going to stop by your house right now so you can pack an overnight bag while he's still at work."

She nodded, her fingers twisting together in her lap. "How will it happen? I mean...I mean, where will you be?"

His voice was the softest velvet when he answered, his eyes staring into hers like they were having a much different conversation. She felt both his gaze and his voice all the way to her soul, had to lock her muscles to keep from reaching out for him.

"Just outside Seattle. Alice's vision gave us all we need. It seems Victoria's been getting impatient, wanting to speed up the progress of her army. She decided to risk making a call to one of her leaders in Seattle behind Albert's back — Riley, the one who believes Victoria is his mate. He invited her out to Seattle to see for herself, and she let slip when she's going to get there. Alice saw where she was calling from and an approximate route. We're going to ambush her about fifty miles outside Seattle. She'll be alone."

It was too _real_ all of a sudden, hearing the details. This was really going to happen. Edward was going to face Victoria in less than 24 hours — and anything could happen.

When she didn't say more, just turned to look out the window while she tried to keep from crying, Edward must have assumed she was done speaking to him again. He sighed audibly, then cranked the car and began pulling out of the lot.

"Who's going with you?" she broke the silence a minute or so later, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes _and_ her voice. She didn't look at him, but she could _feel_ him looking back and forth at her as she kept her gaze turned out the window.

"Emmett, Jasper. Maybe Carlisle. We're still debating that. Rosalie refused not to go where Emmett goes, so she's coming with us too." He sounded growly and annoyed about that, and she concluded _that_ was what they'd been arguing about. He'd wanted Rosalie to stay and help protect her. That was probably also why Carlisle's attendance was still a topic of discussion.

She did the math in her head pretty quickly. If Carlisle went with Edward, that only left Esme, Alice...and her.

Dual feelings warred within her: relief that Edward would have plenty of backup, and some honest fear.

The thought of gentle, motherly Esme coming face to face with an evil like Albert...or tiny little Alice...or herself, for that matter...was legitimately horrifying. He absolutely _terrified_ her.

"So it will be just the three of us tonight? Me, your mom, and Alice?" she questioned, turning to look at him. She tried to hide it, because the most important thing was _Edward's_ safety, but her fear must have come through in her voice. Edward looked at her aghast, horrified that she would even _think_ such a thing.

"Of course not. I told you at lunch I was going to arrange for some backup. Our family from Denali is on a chartered jet right now. I spoke with Eleazar a while back, when we first learned of the army, and secured his promise of help if we find ourselves outnumbered. They took it upon themselves to 'vacation' in Anchorage for the past week, in case we needed them quickly.

"When I talked to Carlisle at lunch, he was going to get them on a chartered jet within the hour. It's a three-hour flight. They'll be at Carlisle's by a little after 4, prepared to stand guard over the house while we're gone. Leaving that early will give us plenty of time to hunt first."

Bella forced herself to relax back into her seat, trying to process that. "Denali. That was where you went right after I came to Forks, right?"

He seemed pleased that she was engaging him in conversation, his mood brightening. "Yes, that's right. I told you a little about them before. They're vegetarians, like us. We consider them family, but we maintain separate residences. There are just too many of us to safely blend into one area. You'll be safe with them, Bella, or I wouldn't even consider it. I trust them implicitly."

She swallowed hard. "How many of them are there?" she asked, her voice small.

More importantly, were they all as beautiful as Edward and the Cullens? Including the women?

"Five. One of them, Kate, has a special talent that makes her especially formidable. With one touch, she can flatten even the strongest vampire with something akin to electricity. It's quite an experience. And Alice is nearly unbeatable in a fight as well. Surely you know I would never leave you without adequate protection."

Her heart started hammering in her chest. There would be seven vampires guarding her, including the two most talented aside from Edward. He was stacking the game in _her_ favor, when the chances were high that _he_ was the one in danger.

"And what about _you_?" she blurted out without conscious decision to do so. "Do you have 'adequate protection'? Couldn't this be a trap?"

Edward looked utterly unconcerned. "Alice's vision was pretty clear. She saw me make the kill. I saw it too."

And his look of anticipation said he'd _enjoyed_ that vision. She nearly gulped.

"It's going to be easy, Bella," he promised gently, sensing her concern. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about."

She had to look away from the soft smile that pulled up the corners of his lips — like he was pleasantly surprised that she was still so worried about him. It tore just a little too much at her heartstrings.

So she just nodded, twisted her fingers together in her lap.

They were within two miles of her house when she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Please just be careful," she near whispered, losing the battle with herself. Her voice broke, thick with tears. "I may be mad at you right now, but I love you more than anything."

It made her jump when Edward suddenly locked down the brakes, pulling to the side of the road so quickly that her seatbelt tightened its hold, pressing her back into the seat. She gasped in fright, wide eyes darting all around them, expecting some approaching danger. But she quickly realized Edward's full, undivided attention was on _her_ when his hand softly made contact with hers.

"Hey. Look at me a minute." His voice was gentle. The hand that carefully covered her linked fingers in her lap was even more so.

She managed to make herself meet his eyes. And that was the end of her composure. Her eyes squeezed shut again, the tears immediately brimming.

"I'm _so_ mad at you," she blurted out before he got a chance to say more. "I _can't_ look at you right now. But I don't want you to go away, either. I don't want you to be near that...that _monster_."

"I know," he replied calmly. "I understand what you're feeling right now, believe it or not. I know you don't completely understand my side about Jacob. And I don't enjoy making you unhappy, Bella, no matter how it might appear. Just please try to see this from my perspective."

"Which is?" she challenged, opening her eyes to glare at him, not ready to back down.

His lip turned up at the corner, looking mildly amused, as he always did at her fiercest glares. If he called her an angry kitten at that moment, she might actually get out of his car and walk home on her own. Or try to, so far as he would let her, which likely wasn't very far.

But his head just tilted to the side, his eyes going soft as they roved over her features.

"I love _you_ more than anything too," he declared, echoing her outburst to him. "That's a woefully inadequate description for my side of things, but true nonetheless. And yet despite my devotion to protecting you, there have now been two times in my existence — once with James, and again when I had to listen to Albert take you away — that I believed you were lost to me forever.

"Both of those times, I had no way of knowing if you were alive or dead. For hours, I didn't know if I would ever see you again or if you would ever be able to forgive me, even if by some miracle I found you alive. Those experiences have changed me permanently, and that's not easy to do. I just can't go through anything like that again. I can't take risks with you anymore, Bella, of any kind. And the wolves _are_ a risk to your safety."

"But Edward..." she started, intending to argue her point once again.

"I _won't_ lose you again," he interjected fiercely, his eyes blazing. "I have to know where you are and that you're safe. I _need_ that. Please be patient with me about this, love. _Please._ The only thing that truly scares me is something happening to you and my not being there to prevent it. I wouldn't survive that again."

Most of her melted. Some small part that was still angry — about _all_ of his unilateral decisions, not just Jacob — wanted to point out that she hadn't known where _he_ was for seven months, compared to his "hours" of searching. Up until Albert took her, at least Edward had the luxury all those months of knowing exactly where she was and that she still wanted him. She hadn't even had that much.

And the only reason she had survived it was Jacob, whom he now wanted to take away from her too.

She knew better than to point any of that out. She'd meant it when she told him she forgave him for leaving, despite not fully agreeing with his reasoning. Throwing it in his face would only hurt him, rather than changing his mind about Jacob. And hurting him wasn't really what she was trying to accomplish.

When his jaw clamped shut and anger filled his expression anyway, without explanation, she wondered for a brief moment if he'd somehow heard her rebellious thoughts. But his eyes had taken on that faraway look that meant he was listening, just not to her.

And whatever he was hearing wasn't good news.

His eyes closed, his shoulders tensing. She thought she heard him mutter one sarcastic word under his breath. "Fantastic." He looked furious.

"What's wrong?" she pled, when she couldn't take it anymore. And at the panic in her voice, Edward snapped out of it.

"Your father is at home," he spoke quietly, refocusing his attention on her. "And he's not very happy right now. We're going to have to change the plan."

Before she could even ask, he had his phone in his hand. The conversation was too quick for her to make out. All she could tell was that he was speaking to Carlisle and then Alice, and that he was murderously angry.

Edward sighed as he hung up, passing a frustrated hand over his face and trying to tamp down his wrath before he turned to look at Bella.

"What's going on?" she begged. She was only just getting used to the original plan, and adaptability wasn't really one of her strengths lately.

"Charlie left work early. He wanted to check out Esme's story, make sure I'm really dropping you off right after school and then leaving, before he let you go with Alice."

She nodded, trying to catch up. "Okay. So we can just let him see you leave, right? And Alice can come pick me up herself? You can wait around the corner and follow us. Or I can get back in your car with you."

Edward was giving her that look — the one that said whatever he had to say was something he dreaded telling her.

"Not exactly. There was a surprise waiting for your father when he got home."

Surprises again. She was starting to hate that word. She swallowed hard, tried to keep a clamp on the automatic panic. "What kind of surprise?"

His jaw muscle was jumping. Though his tone was intentionally soft, he couldn't quite keep the animosity out of it. "Your _friend_ left another note. Only this one was for Charlie, and it was attached to your motorcycle he left on the front porch."

She felt like her heart dropped into her stomach, her eyes going wide. She wasn't sure who she was going to be in more trouble with — her dad or Edward. But Edward winced at the look on her face.

"I already know, Bella," he told her quietly, softening his tone. "You can stop looking at me like that. You told me on the phone when I was in Brazil, although you thought I was Alice at the time. Or rather, you told me all about building motorcycles with him, and you told me about hearing my voice when you were in danger. It wasn't much of a leap from there. And Alice eventually told me everything she knew anyway."

Bella licked her lips nervously. It was still hard to wrap her mind around the fact that it was _Edward_ she'd said all those things to on the phone. She'd so solidly believed it was Alice.

She had said a _lot_ of things about Jacob that night. She'd gone on and on about him and how much better being near him made her feel. Maybe some part of her had _wanted_ it to get back to Edward, for Alice to run and tell him. Maybe some small part of her had hoped he might be jealous and come back for her, if news reached him of all her gushing about Jacob's importance in her life.

If it was jealousy she'd wanted, she'd certainly got her wish. Considering the tension that already existed between them, Edward was obviously being careful not to express an opinion one way or the other, either about the motorcycle or the things she'd told him about Jacob on the phone. But he didn't have to. His clenched jaw said it all for him. So she decided the smartest thing to do was change the subject.

"How mad is Charlie?" she asked.

Edward scoffed bitterly. He wouldn't light into her, but he seemed glad to be able to vent his frustration on another topic.

"Jacob's note painted himself as the responsible friend looking out for your best interest by telling Charlie everything. He also painted you as suicidal, told your father about your recklessness and your motorcycle accident. He claimed to be concerned about you killing yourself if you continue spending time with me and I break your heart again — which I hope you know will never happen. But your father bought into every self-serving word. You're grounded, as I'm sure you could guess. He's not going to let you leave the house now, not even with Alice. He's calling Esme to cancel as we speak."

She could practically feel the frustration radiating off of him in waves, and she felt the same thing herself. While she might not _like_ the idea of Edward going up against Victoria, this ambush was likely the safest way to do it, when Victoria would be alone and in transit. Picking off their enemies one at a time was far safer than facing them all together, surrounded by an army.

But Jacob had put the entire plan in jeopardy with his malicious stunt. And that was not going to go unaddressed by her. Whether Edward liked it or not, there was going to come a time — and soon — that Jacob was going to get an earful from Bella.

"So what do we do now?" she asked tentatively, and Edward sighed. He had that look again, his 'Bella's not going to like this' look.

"I drop you off with your father, and then I leave. Alice and Esme are on their way over now to set up outside, and the Denalis will be landing soon. I'll stay with Esme and Alice until they arrive. They'll all protect you from outside your house without you ever seeing them. And you just spend a very unpleasant evening with Charlie, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Bella. There's no other way, unless we simply pass up this opportunity to go after Victoria. There might not be a better one."

She bit her lip, tried to control the fresh wave of tears pricking at her eyes. He was right. It was really the only option left. "So we have to say goodbye now," she managed, immediately understanding the implication. "Right here. Charlie probably won't even let you in the door."

Edward's right hand still covered both of hers. He gave them a gentle squeeze, watching her carefully. "Your father has a lengthy discussion planned for you, and he likely won't let you out of his sight until he says his piece. I'll be gone by the time he's finished."

She had expected to be returning to the Cullen house with Edward, to have plenty of time to work up to goodbye. But now Edward was going to be ripped away from her almost immediately.

She wasn't ready. Terror welled up in her, her lip starting to tremble. Her chest ached, in exactly the place that she had felt like there was a hole punched through it when he left her the first time. She flipped her hands over, grasping at Edward's hand above hers and holding on. She must have _looked_ just as terrified as she felt, because Edward inhaled sharply, his grip tightening.

"I'm coming back to you," he vowed fiercely. "This is not me leaving you again, Bella. That is _not_ what this is. Tell me you know that, or I won't be able to go through with it."

Her heart was hammering in her chest. The panic attacks she'd experienced so far paled in comparison to the one threatening to overtake her at the moment.

Edward was _leaving_.

But she pushed it down, fought her way through it, completely on the basis of Edward's words about not being able to go if she wasn't okay. She heard that a little differently: that he didn't need distraction when he fought Victoria. She had to convince him she was fine.

"I know," she forced herself to say. "I trust you."

It might not have been the full truth, because insecurity and fear were ripping her into shreds. But Edward's eyes went so dark at her declaration of trust that she knew she'd said the right thing. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he licked his lips hungrily.

"I know you're still furious with me," he qualified. His voice had gone husky, his eyes boring into hers once his gaze traveled back up her face. "So I'll understand if the answer is no. But I really want to kiss you goodbye."

Her only answer was to lean toward him, a whimper breaking free, and that was all it took. He let go of her hands, and she heard the click of her seatbelt releasing, felt his cool hands through her shirt as they closed around her waist. And suddenly she was in his lap in the driver's seat, her back up against his door and her feet pointing toward the seat she just came from. And none of the details about how she got there were important, because all that mattered was his mouth coming down firmly on hers.

He kissed her like he feared he might never see her again, and that scared her — not of _him_ or his kiss, but the emotion behind it. She held on for dear life, her head spinning with the intensity of it all. She kissed him like _her_ life depended on it too.

And maybe it did. She'd already proven she didn't know how to live without him.

Edward abruptly broke the passionate kiss a few short moments later, exhaled a shaky breath. "If I don't put you back in your seat right now, I'll never leave," he rasped. But his lips found hers again, soft and gentle this time. His hands caressed her face as he slowly, sweetly kissed her goodbye.

It was just as overwhelming as the fiery, passionate kiss they'd just shared. Maybe even a little _more_ overwhelming, considering what it meant.

Goodbye.

She felt him lift her and set her back down in her seat, but his lips only left hers for the brief second necessary to turn her. He was leaned all the way forward into the passenger side when she landed, his hands still gripping her waist. One last gentle kiss, followed by a quick but adoring touch of his lips to her forehead to seal his verbal promise — "I love you, Bella. I'm coming back." And he quickly retreated to his side, put the car in drive, and drove her the rest of the way home.

* * *

Charlie was waiting for them on the front porch. And he was standing right next to Bella's motorcycle, his hands on his hips and his expression stern.

Edward squeezed Bella's hand, brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss before they both opened their doors and got out.

"Chief Swan," he greeted her father politely, giving him a courteous nod as he put a gentlemanly hand at Bella's back to walk her to the porch.

But Charlie didn't reply. He was busy glaring at Edward like he was the very personification of evil, his thoughts pretty clear on whose fault he believed _all_ of Bella's problems to be, including her recklessness that occurred when she was with Jacob.

It wasn't like Edward fully disagreed. He'd certainly rather be the one to face Charlie's wrath than allow Bella to do so.

But that wasn't to be. Because Charlie's ire quickly turned on his daughter, when they were still only barely steps away from Edward's car.

"You want to explain _this_ to me, young lady?" he yelled across the yard. He didn't have to point at the motorcycle he stood beside. It was pretty clear what he was so pissed about.

But even Edward was surprised by Bella's response, which was completely uncharacteristic, something akin to a cornered animal snapping in fear. His hand was still at the small of her back as he escorted her toward the porch, so he felt her entire body stiffen as she abruptly stopped in her tracks on the walkway, crossed her arms, and lashed out at Charlie.

"Yeah. It means Jacob's an asshole. Anything else you want to know?"

Despite the twitch of amused pride in Edward's lips, it was still the wrong thing to say. The normally laid-back Charlie went completely livid. He leaned across the rail, pointing his finger toward Bella's face as he glared down at them from the porch.

"You will _not_ speak to me that way. You are going to come inside this house right now, and you're not leaving my sight until we discuss this. You are grounded, and _he's_ not allowed in this house until further notice. Do I make myself clear?"

Every protective instinct Edward possessed told him to come to Bella's defense, to get between her and trouble. It wasn't like Charlie would ever even think of hurting her, and his head knew that. But his instincts were quite another story.

To allow _any_ male to chastise and punish his mate went so completely against the grain of Edward's basic makeup that he could barely tolerate it.

And to leave her _alone,_ to deal with it by herself? How could he even consider such a thing, when his monster was screaming at him to push her behind him, bare his teeth, and inform Charlie that he'd better watch his goddamn tone with Edward's mate? His fists clenched at his side, a low growl building in his chest.

It was loud enough for Bella to hear it, due to her close proximity to his side, but likely not Charlie. And he hadn't planned it that way, because he wasn't really doing much thinking at all right then, but it was Bella's need to protect _him_ from doing something stupid that snapped her out of it.

She whirled around to face him, putting herself between them with her back to Charlie. Her hand came to rest in the center of Edward's chest. "Whoa...hey, easy. I'm okay," she said softly, where only he could hear. And at her touch, the audible evidence of his fury subsided somewhat.

"Bella! Inside. _Now,"_ Charlie roared, his patience nearly gone.

Edward's growl started building again, his ferocious glare fixed over the top of Bella's head, right on Charlie. Bella's hand on his chest lightly rubbed, soothingly. With her other hand, she reached up and cupped his cheek, tugged at his face until she got him to look down and meet her eyes.

"I'm okay," she reiterated, not even flinching at the black fury he knew she must see there. "I can handle Charlie. I've got this. Go."

How did she always know exactly what to do, exactly how to handle him? Touching him, getting his focus to her, assuring him she was okay — the tension and violence drained out of him like water pouring out of a bucket.

_Why can't he just leave and go camping already?_ That was Charlie. The more agitated he was, the easier his thoughts to read. _Wouldn't hurt my feelings if the kid pissed off a mountain lion or two while he's out_ _there. Lot of ways to get lost out in the wilderness..._

If Charlie only knew. Edward was definitely going to piss off a mountain lion or two that night, when he wrestled them to the ground with his bare hands like they were nothing. And then he was going to use the strength he got from consuming their blood to hunt down and rip apart a vicious vampire whose list of kills rivaled that of the most prolific serial killer Charlie could dream up — a vicious monster whose sole mission was to kill Charlie's daughter.

He was sorely tempted to tell him all that, maybe throw in the fact that he'd be glad to do the same to _anything_ that upset her. Instead, he gave Bella one last, quick kiss on the lips — while Charlie _fumed_ — and whispered in her ear that he would still be close by until all of her protection was in place.

And then he forced himself to make a polite goodbye to Charlie Swan, get in his car, and drive away — just far enough to park out of sight and run to join Alice and Esme, where they already waited outside Bella's window.

* * *

After her initial flash of rebellion when Charlie lit into her outside — at a moment when she just couldn't take anymore, knowing she was moments from watching Edward walk away into danger — Bella adjusted her attitude dramatically when she and Charlie made it inside to the kitchen and she sat down at the table to endure his wrath.

It took him a little while to realize he wasn't getting any argument. He was expecting more of the same from her, and he'd wound himself up pretty good.

He slowed down when he realized she was just sitting and listening, making apologies in the appropriate places. He didn't really seem to know what to do with that. Her assurances that she had _never_ intended to kill herself, with the motorcycle or otherwise, placated him greatly.

At some point, when Charlie seemed to be trying to figure out a new angle from which to belabor the point some more, she stood up and just started making dinner for them both. He gave it up around the time the smell of food started to hit his nose, and he helped her finish up. They sat down to eat dinner in relative peace.

Charlie had kept the conversation going for nearly an hour, surely a new record for him.

An hour. Her stomach did a little flip-flop. There was little chance that Edward was still there. He would be long gone, running farther from her with each passing second.

And five vampires she didn't know would be standing outside with Alice and Esme, listening to her father lecture her — one of whom could _electrocute vampires_ , apparently. It was surreal.

Did they wonder what the hell they were doing there? Did they wonder why the Cullens would put so much time and energy into protecting an insignificant human girl?

Because she certainly wondered it. All the time.

The Denalis must care an awful lot about the Cullens to do this. Was it _all_ of the Cullens, or Edward in particular? She couldn't remember everything Edward had said about them, when he mentioned them early on in their relationship. She had learned so many new things about him and his world, over the course of just a few days, that it all jumbled together in her head at some point. But she was pretty sure she had received the impression that the Denalis were mostly all female. At least some of them were likely _unmated_ females, considering the ratio of males to females.

She didn't eat very much of her dinner after that thought occurred to her, although Charlie's appetite seemed unaffected by their argument. He shoveled enough food into his mouth for both of them.

He helped her wash the dishes. She didn't complain.

When Charlie wandered into the living room after dinner and turned a baseball game on, Bella sat down at the table to start her homework. She just felt less _watched_ in the kitchen than she would in her bedroom, knowing who all was right outside. She would be too tempted to stare out her window, try to get a peek at the Denalis — which likely wouldn't make her feel any _better_ about herself.

Halfway through her first assignment, she had to go looking for a new pen. That was when she noticed it: Jacob's note to Charlie, right on top of the stack of mail Charlie had picked up on his way in.

She didn't hesitate for even a second before she picked it up and read it. Edward's summary, while accurate, had actually downplayed the cruel pettiness of Jacob's words — probably in yet another effort to protect her.

But now she knew everything.

And it felt like her blood started boiling. She was _trembling_ with wrath.

How dare he? How _dare_ Jacob do this? He wanted to hide notes in her bathroom, accusing _her_ of being a bad friend and making her feel guilty? He was worse! He had ratted her out to Charlie, gone out of his way to _lie_ about her and get her in trouble so that Charlie would keep her from Edward.

Jacob knew as well as anyone else how much she needed Edward — probably _better_ than anyone else. And he had clearly hoped to get Charlie to forbid her from seeing him.

She was getting sick — _sick_ — of that word: being _forbidden_ to do things. In her 18 years of life, growing up with Renee, there were very few, if any, times that she could remember that ever happening. She had practically been the parent herself. And now, in less than a 24-hour span, Edward, Charlie, and Jacob had all pulled that _forbidding_ crap with her, be it directly or indirectly.

Enough. She'd had no control over _anything_ since the day Edward left her. If she didn't take control of her own life soon, at least in some small way, she was going to lose her mind.

Maybe she couldn't do anything about Edward battling Victoria that night, aside from slowly going insane worrying about it.

She definitely couldn't do anything about the undoubtedly gorgeous female vampires standing outside her house at that very moment, emphasizing her own plainness and unworthiness for Edward simply by their very existence.

But she could accomplish one thing. She knew _exactly_ how she could get to La Push and tell Jacob Black off.

She made a snap decision. She was going to do it, forbidden or not — and worry about the consequences later.

The house phone started ringing almost the moment her decision was made. She picked it up and set it off the hook, yelled to Charlie that it was just a wrong number.

It was all she could do not to throw it across the room.

* * *

After taking a few minutes to get her plan straight in her mind — hoping that she was correct in her theory that neither Alice nor Esme would dare intervene in front of Charlie — she made her way into the living room and sat down next to her dad on the couch.

He looked over at her in surprise, his eyebrow going up. He wasn't stupid. Bella had never willingly watched baseball in her entire life. He knew she wanted something. So she might as well come straight to the point.

"Do you think Billy's watching the game too?" she asked, and watched Charlie's eyes narrow.

"Most likely. Why?" If suspicion had a face, it would look like Charlie at that moment.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She took a deep breath and launched into her plan, starting to doubt that whole 'non-interference in front of the humans' theory. What if Edward hadn't left yet after all? She wasn't naive enough to believe that there wouldn't be a very, very ugly scene about two seconds after her next sentence if _he_ was still there.

"I know I'm grounded. But I was thinking...I guess I really owe Jacob an apology too, and I don't think it's fair to do it over the phone."

Charlie still had that suspicious look. "Your point being? You know you're grounded, Bella. If you think I'm letting you leave this house, when we both know you'd just go straight to him..."

"Even if we go together?" she cut in. She said it a little too fast, a little too nervous. Charlie's eyebrow edged even higher.

"You want me to drive you to La Push. Right now. And watch the game with Billy, while you apologize to Jake, who two hours ago you were calling an asshole." He sounded completely incredulous, but his face said he might actually consider it. Time to go in for the kill.

"Yeah, you're probably right," she admitted glumly, dropping her gaze and hoping she was a better actress than she thought. "I doubt he wants to see me anyway. I shouldn't have brought it up." She stood up, putting on her best dejected look. "Night, Dad. I'm going to turn in early."

She made it three slow steps, her heart pounding. If she _actually_ had to go upstairs to her room out of Charlie's sight, where there would no doubt be a very pissed-off Alice waiting to harangue her about her escape attempt, it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Bells!"

She turned around so fast she nearly tripped. Stealth just wasn't likely to ever be her thing.

"Yeah?" She looked way too hopeful. She was aware of that.

Charlie studied her for a second, then sighed. "Go upstairs and get your coat. It's cold out tonight."

Her heart jumped in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, up the stairs. Leaving Charlie's sight and going into her room would be a mistake. There would be at least one Cullen all over her like Jessica Stanley on hot gossip.

"Oh...um, I'll be fine. I don't need it. Let's just go, okay?" This was a sneak attack. If the Cullens had time to regroup, they'd figure out a way to stop her, Charlie or no Charlie. Time was of the essence.

But Charlie hadn't missed that look she cast upstairs, and he also hadn't missed that she was trying to rush him out the door. His eyes glanced up the stairs and then back to Bella, suspicion blooming afresh on his weathered features. He muted the television and stood, his fingers twitching close to where his gun belt would be when he was on duty. He was watching her intently, but also watching the stairs behind her.

"Isabella Marie Swan, what's going on? Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of something?" His voice was deadly serious.

Standing there with her mouth open while she tried to think of a response was definitely not the correct reply. It sent Charlie into police mode. He had the living room gun-safe open and one of his many guns in his hand within seconds, already walking purposely toward the stairs.

"Who's up there?" he demanded quietly, stopping beside his daughter. "Is it him? Is that why you want to leave? What are you afraid of, Bells?" Fury crossed his face, his tone dropping to a near-whisper. "Has that boy been hurting you? I knew...I _knew_ something was wrong lately. If he hurt you..."

That was enough to shake her tongue loose. "No! Dad! I swear, nobody's up there!"

Charlie just started up the stairs. She wasn't going to make it to La Push if Alice got hold of her out of Charlie's sight, so Bella started up the stairs right behind him, determined to stay close enough not to be caught alone.

He headed straight for her room, looked behind the doors and inside the closet, anger showing on his face. He checked the bathroom, his own room, and then checked Bella's room again — all with her right on his heels.

"I told you. There's nobody here," she said weakly, watching as a still keyed-up Charlie crossed to her window, peering out it and then flicking the lock shut. He turned back around, eyes still roving the room.

Charlie finally sighed, the hand that wasn't holding a gun coming up to pass wearily over his face. "I must be losing it. I could have sworn..." he trailed off. The suspicion still hadn't fully faded from his eyes. He sighed heavily yet again, looking embarrassed. "You still want to go to La Push?"

"Yeah. Definitely." But she also couldn't put _Charlie_ in danger. She had a plan for that too. "Can I borrow your phone to call Jake? Let him know we're coming? I'll just call him on the way."

Charlie looked around the room one last time, his brow still furrowed. "Yeah, whatever you want," he answered distractedly. He fished it out of his pocket, put it in her hand.

Jake picked up on the second ring, while she grabbed her coat and trailed Charlie back down the stairs and out to his cruiser, expecting the Cullens and/or the Denalis to pop out at any moment. She knew _all_ the vampires in the woods would hear this conversation, including Alice. But that was all part of the plan she'd hastily formulated in the kitchen, a plan to make sure that both she and Charlie stayed safe while she made her jailbreak.

"Hello?"

"Jake, it's me. My dad and I are coming to see you and Billy. Can you guys, um...can you meet us? You know...outside? We'll be to the La Push line in just a little while. Just me and my dad. We're leaving now."

She'd worried he might not understand what she was asking, but she also couldn't risk leaving Charlie's side so she could be more direct. But she'd worried for nothing. She knew Jacob had caught her meaning the moment he started speaking. She'd never heard the all-business side of Jacob before — the wolfpack side. It was different. She wasn't sure she liked it.

"Understood. What about your side of the boundary? You have protection that far?"

She bit her lip, tried to suppress the shudder at the thought of vampires she'd never met running alongside her dad's cruiser with Esme and Alice — neither of whom were probably too happy with her at the moment.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"We'll be waiting." Jacob was obviously just as pissed off at her as she was at him. He hung up on her, but she knew he'd be waiting with some of the other wolves to be sure she and Charlie were safe once they crossed the line.

She also knew that the Cullens now knew that too, so they would have no reason to worry — or do anything crazy, like call Edward.

It was foolproof...she hoped.

* * *

It was well after midnight before she and an exhausted Charlie trudged their weary way back into their house.

Charlie had finished watching the game with Billy. And then the two of them had found another one on cable. They'd cracked open a few beers. Then they'd cracked open a few more. Charlie hadn't wanted to drive home until he was sure he was below the legal limit. She'd have offered to drive, but even if he would have let her drive the cruiser, she wasn't really sure she wanted to go home yet.

Alice was _not_ going to be happy, and that locked window probably wasn't going to keep her out.

All those hours in La Push had given Bella plenty of time to hash things out with Jacob, at least. Maybe _too_ much time.

She eventually folded and ended up forgiving him, pretty much like they both knew she would.

She also ended up promising to find a way back out to La Push to see him again soon, a promise Jacob said he would hold her to.

His hug when she left was too tight, a little too proprietary, and she felt that twinge of guilt again — guilt about both Jacob _and_ Edward. Edward was definitely right about Jacob's feelings for her. Once they were finished yelling at each other, it was clear how much Jake had missed her.

He missed her a little _too_ much. He stared at her just a little too intently.

It wasn't just some little crush, she had to acknowledge now. Jacob was in love with her. There was no denying it, especially now that Edward had pointed it out — and he would definitely be in a position to know, given that he could read Jacob's every thought.

And while she had made it very clear, once again, that her only feelings were for Edward, she _knew_ Jake still held out hope.

And she promised to go back anyway. She felt guilty about that. But she wasn't ready to give up the lifeline she'd held onto for months — not when some traumatized part of her still struggled with wondering if maybe Jacob was right, that it was only a matter of time before Edward broke her heart again.

* * *

After a yawning Charlie staggered off to bed approximately two seconds after they walked in the door, Bella took her time in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Thank God it was a Friday and she didn't have to go to school the next morning. She'd never make it.

When she couldn't put it off anymore, she took a deep breath and walked into her room, turning to face the door as she softly closed it behind her.

"Alice, I know what you're going to say," she told the door, leaning her forehead against it. She was _exhausted_ , physically and mentally.

But it wasn't Alice's voice that answered. It was a velvet voice she knew all too well — and it was beyond livid. Dangerously quiet and controlled.

"What were you thinking? That's all I want to know."

She whirled around, eyes wide.

"Edward! What are you doing here?"

Looking _furious_. That's what he was doing, and she couldn't even see his face yet. Her breath caught at the way he looked, standing by her window, his back to her. He had his left hand shoved in his pocket, his right hand tensely resting on the window-frame at chest height as he leaned forward into it, staring out at the darkness. The muscles in his back rippled with tension.

He hadn't even looked at her yet, and her heart was already off to the races.

"What do you _think_ I'm doing here, Isabella?"

Was it completely wrong that that quiet, utterly enraged but too-calm tone of voice sent a jolt straight through her body, one that started and ended right between her legs? God, she had never seen him like this. It should probably scare the bejesus out of her.

It didn't.

Geez, the way he said her name...

"I don't know. Overreacting?" she fired back in response to his question, probably unwisely. She couldn't help it. The more this entire situation spun out of her control, her control over her own tongue spun out right along with it. She'd done the same thing to Charlie earlier, outside, when he asked about the motorcycle. She still didn't know where the hell that outburst had come from either.

Lashing out was just her only defense mechanism these days, apparently. And that really wasn't fair.

Edward got super speed and mindreading. Alice got psychic abilities. The probably gorgeous Kate Denali got electroconductivity or whatever.

All that poor, fragile little Bella Swan got to defend herself was bitchiness. Good to know.

That said, it would probably be a _really_ good time to rein that dubious talent in a little, judging by the set of Edward's jaw and his silence.

She crossed the room, stood just to his side, practically right on top of him. She stopped short of reaching out to touch the coiled tension that was his entire body. Her sharp retort had only made it worse. She could see his full profile, now that she stood closer to him, despite the low light. His eyes slowly closed, his breaths becoming more shallow, like he was struggling for control now that she was within reach. His jaw clenched.

"Why did you come back?" she changed course, her voice soft. "You're supposed to be hunting right now. What about Victoria?"

He spun on her, finally looking at her, but he kept his hands to himself. The hand that had been on the window frame dropped to his side. It didn't clench into a fist, but her eye was caught by his fingers, continually flexing and relaxing. His eyes glittered darkly — like pitch-black dark. He hadn't had time for any hunting at all before he came back.

"Hunting will have to wait, at least for me," he confirmed that theory. "I came back alone, when Alice finally decided to let me know you'd been gone two hours and she couldn't see your future. I'll be leaving again to take care of Victoria just as soon as I deal with you, so there's little time. Pack a bag if you want one. It doesn't matter to me either way. We're leaving in two minutes."

Her lips parted. She barely suppressed the shudder. Was he _kidnapping_ her again?

"Leaving and going where?" She somehow managed to sound indignant.

His eyes flashed dangerously. "The cottage. My parents' house isn't an option anymore. Charlie knows where they live, and that's the first place he's going to look when he wakes up in the morning and you aren't here."

Her mouth was so dry it felt like she'd been chewing on cotton balls. She could argue the finer points of this later. There wasn't going to be any dissuading Edward until he cooled down. This was going to happen, and the best she could hope for was damage control.

"I can leave him a note," she offered with far less sass, since she was willing to accept that at least some of this might be her own fault for being impulsive and deceptive. "Maybe let him know I'm okay so he doesn't cause trouble for your family."

Edward averted his gaze, shrugged a shoulder. "If you think you can accomplish all of that in the minute and a half you have left before I take you out this window with me, be my guest. Charlie Swan is not my primary concern right now."

Her eyes widened. He was _really_ mad at her. He kept a tight rein on it, not even raising his voice, but he was _pissed_...and he looked more than a little like a vampire at the moment.

A _dangerous_ one.

And all that anger was caused by fear for her safety.

Why... _why_ in the name of all that was sane and logical was that the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her whole life? Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty to decline Carlisle's offer to get her some counseling when she'd been staying with them. Because there probably shouldn't be a pounding throb between her legs just from _looking_ at the sharp set of Edward's clenched jaw, the tension in his powerful frame.

And she _really_ shouldn't be licking her lips in anticipation of what he might do if she kept pushing.

"You can't be serious," she argued, frustrated in a couple of different ways now. It was kind of amazing she remembered her point at all. "I told you there's nothing to worry about, and I was right. I was there for hours, and no harm done."

He just glared at her, his jaw working while anger radiated off of him in waves.

Some instinct made her reach out, lay her hand on his forearm and step closer. "See? I'm fine. It's not like I'm going anywhere else tonight. Are you really going to risk setting Charlie off by kidnapping me, all because I went to La Push with my dad for a little while? Edward, don't be..."

"Don't," he cut her off, his eyes searing into her, and she stilled. He hadn't exactly raised his voice. But he was losing some of that careful grip on his tightly restrained anger. Her hand slid off from his arm as she instinctively backed up a step, turning so that her back came up against the wall by the window.

And he followed her — just like her body had known he would. It was why she did it in the first place, she was stunned to realize. What was _wrong_ with her?

"Don't finish that sentence, Isabella," he commanded quietly.

He didn't touch her in any way — his carefully controlled movements said that was a very, very conscious decision — but he did plant his hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. Despite the look on his face, something stirred deep within her, something dark and delicious.

What would he do right then if she wasn't still human? She thought maybe she had some idea. There was a definite sexual charge to the anger between them, on both sides. She could feel it, an undercurrent in the air, practically humming.

Their mate bond.

If fiery passion was how mates solved fights, she might be picking a lot of them once she was changed. She didn't feel even a hint of uneasiness about being touched, at the moment. She felt nothing but anger and pure, unadulterated _lust,_ mingling together seamlessly. Did he feel it too?

"How am I supposed to know _what_ you'll do if I leave you here again?" Edward growled quietly, bending his arms and leaning closer into her space. That move sent a little thrill through her lower gut. "You knew exactly how I felt about you seeing him, and yet you sneaked off behind my back at the very first opportunity."

"I didn't do anything behind your back!" she protested, leaning a little closer herself. Her chest bumped his, and he backed off an inch, though his nostrils flared. "I told you I was still going to find a way to see my _friend_ , and that's exactly what I did!"

"I nearly started a _war_ tonight, Bella!" he hissed back furiously. "Do you understand what that would have meant? Kate took me down less than fifty feet from the boundary of Quileute territory on my way in to find you. Her first jolt barely slowed me down; I plowed right through the rest of them. She had to give me everything she had at full power for over two hours just to hold me back, until you finally crossed back over the line and I could see for myself you were safe. So I truly hope tonight was worth it for you. Because it won't ever happen again."

She could barely breathe. Arousal wasn't what she felt anymore.

Good God, what had she _done?_ She reached up and grabbed his wrists beside her head, staring up at him in horror.

"Edward...oh my God, you can't break the treaty! Not ever! What were you _thinking?_!"

He took a measured breath, his tight jaw muscle jumping as he checked his anger again.

"Aside from the fact that my mate could be hurt and I had to get to her? Nothing. I was running on pure instinct." He gave a frustrated sigh at her obvious lack of comprehension of his reactions. "For God's sake, Bella, how many times do I have to explain it?" he growled through clenched teeth. "You are my _mate!_ You had been gone for hours. Alice couldn't see you. For all I knew, they were holding you there to keep you away from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Remorse flooded her, draining the last of the fight out of her. It had never once occurred to her that Edward might try to cross the border and _come get her._ But to him, it had never once occurred to him _not_ to.

She had thought she understood his compulsion to protect her. But she had vastly underestimated it.

He could have been killed. He _would_ have been killed. Not even Edward could fight an entire pack of werewolves alone. They were designed to kill vampires. Jacob had explained that and a whole lot more to her while she was in La Push that night — hence her newfound understanding and appreciation for the treaty that kept the wolves and vampires separate.

And if Edward's family had followed him, some of them might have been killed too. Edward was right: it would have been all-out war.

She released his wrists, reached up and cupped his face in her hands. He flinched but didn't pull away. If anything, he relaxed slightly, his eyes closing as he leaned into her touch after a moment, inhaling deeply. His hands stayed right where they were, on the wall beside her head.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she whispered sincerely. That was one apology she was definitely willing to make. "You weren't even supposed to find out about it until after I was back."

He didn't like the second half of that. The way he flinched made that clear, but he obviously decided to let it go.

"You're safe now," he rasped. His voice was hoarse. "That's all that matters."

"Did it hurt?" she asked remorsefully. "What Kate did to you, I mean."

His focus came back up, locked on her eyes. He winced, seemed to reconsider his words carefully before he finally spoke.

"Not nearly so much as what you did to me."

She exhaled like the breath had been knocked out of her, not having any idea what to say to that.

"Thirty seconds left, Bella," he said, softly this time. He backed completely away from her, put his hands in his pockets. "If there's anything you want to take with you, get it now."

She spent that 30 seconds leaving a hastily jotted note to tell Charlie she was fine, she was sorry, and she'd be back in a couple days.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	19. Perception

Chapter 19

With each mile Edward ran on his way out of Forks for the second time that night, racing against a deadline that was going to be far too close after his unexpected trip home, the more he could feel it in his bones.

 _Revenge_.

It was going to be his, and it was going to be his that very night. _Soon_. He could almost taste it.

Victoria, the architect of the plan to so cruelly damage his Bella, was going to die. And he was personally going to be responsible for her demise.

The only way to keep even a loose grip on his sanity was to focus on _that,_ on the victory to come. Dwelling on the awful events that had occurred over the past few hours would only drive him deeper into madness.

Like what Bella had put him through, for example — second only to his own boorish behavior afterward.

He fully expected there to be a very frosty welcome waiting for him, when he returned home to his mate, if she would even allow him near her. Could he truly blame her if she didn't?

Despite his fervent wish to put _all_ of that from his mind and focus on what lay ahead, if only for a little while, he could think of little else. Like a broken record, his mind played it all on a continuous loop as he ran. His legs pumped faster and faster, as though he could run fast enough to escape it.

But even his formidable speed couldn't outrun his perfect vampiric memory.

* * *

The unexpected phone call from Alice that set the entire debacle into motion, just as he and his traveling companions were beginning to hunt in preparation for battle, made him instantly anxious when he saw his sister's number.

Alice then nervously informing him that Bella gave them the slip and left home _hours_ ago — and had yet to return — was nearly his undoing.

Rational thought ceased. His monster took over, in a way he seldom allowed but couldn't have stopped. All he could hear was that his mate was _gone_. All he was capable of feeling was an obsessive compulsion to find her _immediately_ , before the trail had time to grow cold.

The fact that it was La Push and the wolves she had run off to was a much smaller part of his consternation than Bella might have believed.

She was out in the open, without his or his family's protection. Vulnerable _._ It didn't matter _where_ , aside from the fact that wolf territory only further blinded and handcuffed him.

His fury and terror had little to do with Jacob Black... at least at first. That came later, when he smelled that filthy dog's scent all over every inch of his mate the moment she stepped close to him by her window.

Which, not coincidentally, was also the moment he effectively lost his goddamn mind.

But initially, when Alice first called, his reaction wasn't even about Jacob. He would have had the same response if Bella took off _anywhere_ alone.

As he gripped the phone, his mind quickly raced through multiple possible threats his mate could be facing at that very moment, each one more horrifying than the last.

Regardless of Alice's vision predicting Bella was safe from Albert until the next snowfall, decisions could change. What if Albert was nearby, along with Thomas, the shield Victoria had created, and none of them knew it? What if he had been watching all along, concealed by the shield?

What if Victoria's "mistake" had been a trap, as Bella herself suggested when she expressed concern about him going? He had been willing to accept that relatively small risk for himself, seeing as he would have plenty of backup to ensure he made it safely back to his mate either way.

But even the slightest risk to Bella was a different story entirely. What if this was all a trap for _her_ , one designed to lure Edward away from her side?

Even if it wasn't, what if Albert made a snap decision to capitalize on the opportunity of a less protected Bella, either while she was in Quileute territory or in transit between?

Edward wouldn't be able to see it coming, and neither would Alice. They would believe she was still visiting in La Push.

It could have already happened, in fact, with so much time already having passed. Charlie could be dead on the side of the road somewhere on the other side of the boundary, at that very moment, and Bella in Albert's clutches. Edward wouldn't even _know_ about it until far too late.

Like a rope slipping through his hands as he dangled above the precipice, he slipped a little farther into madness.

Yes, he distantly heard Alice telling him through the phone that Bella had arranged protection by the wolves for the second leg of her trip to La Push. It made not one damn bit of difference.

He was now expected to entrust the protection of his mate to a pack of untested and undisciplined young _wolves_ , who could just as easily kill her themselves with one temper tantrum? Not an option. The thought was unconscionable.

He barely heard Alice's profuse apologies, her desperate explanation that Bella had tied their hands by cleverly involving Charlie and refusing to leave his side, making it impossible to intervene without inflaming Charlie's suspicions and risking exposure.

His sister's pleas hardly moved him. His family had failed him. They should have done _something_ **:** disabled the vehicles, created a distraction long enough to extract Bella when her father wasn't looking, even intervene right in front of the man, if it came down to it.

Something. _Anything._

How the _fuck_ could they have let this happen? That burning question went through his mind and right out of his mouth, growled through the phone.

He paid no attention to Carlisle at his side, questioning him, trying to stop him and talk sense into him, get him to stay with them and stick to the plan to ambush Victoria.

There was no help for him. He wouldn't be capable of another rational thought until his Bella was safe in his own arms — maybe not even then, until he got to the bottom of _why_ she'd done this and could find a way to prevent something like it from ever happening again.

He took off running, snarling ferociously, as fast as his legs would carry him. He outran Carlisle, Rosalie, and his brothers in seconds, barely noticing when they broke off the chase and decided to stay behind, to stick to the plan with or without him — despite his being the key to the entire thing, as Alice had made clear.

He didn't care about that, at the moment. He cared about finding Bella. So he didn't slow down for the entire long run, backtracking from the hunting ground they'd chosen far past Seattle, all the way back through Forks, until he ran straight through the barrier of his mother, Alice, and the Denalis, 100 yards from the boundary line to La Push.

They were waiting for him, of course. They knew what he planned, thanks to Alice, and they fully intended to stop him.

He'd known to expect that. And he had no intention of _being_ stopped.

But his family had a plan too. It was Alice's mind he was focused on, as usual, looking for the details. And that was his mistake.

She swerved him. She concealed her thoughts, filled her mind with false plans — and sent him in exactly the direction they wanted him to go.

It still wouldn't have worked, if not for Kate. She managed to tag him with her electric touch, as he plowed through their line.

It was enough to make him stumble, nearly fall.

That slowed him down just long enough for Eleazar and Carmen to give Kate a boost, throw her into a tree in front of him, from which she ricocheted to land right on top of him — her power flowing as soon as she was airborne.

He still tried to keep going, despite her on his back, electrifying his body with her painful touch.

It was a losing battle. She got him to the ground, rolling and tumbling and struggling, less than fifty feet from the line.

It was closer than that by the time their bodies came to rest, landing dangerously close to the border, with Edward convulsing in a tortured arc at Kate's grip.

For over two hours that seemed like an eternity, he viciously fought to break loose, as Kate sent wave after wave of electric agony through his body to keep him down.

It wasn't the pain that made that time so interminable.

His every thought was Bella. He cared little for the excruciating pain coursing through his body, aside from the fact that it crippled him, kept him from his purpose. His mind was preoccupied with blind terror for the wellbeing of his mate.

He had some concept of the passage of time — enough to know that midnight came and went, with no sign of Bella returning in Alice's mind.

He became wholly savage then, doubling his efforts to break free. His struggle was fueled by terror that the wolves had taken it upon themselves to enact what had previously been only a seedling of an idea in Charlie's mind, intentionally planted there by Billy Black, about moving Bella away to La Push and effectively out of Edward's reach.

What if the wolves had capitalized on her presence and put Billy Black's plan in motion? What if she was being held against her will at that very moment, wanting to come back to him and not allowed to? What if she wasn't coming back at _all?_ Surely, she would be back by well after _midnight_ if she intended or was able to return. He yelled and thrashed and snarled, bit and growled and kicked, but the unending flow of electricity kept him prone on the ground, his muscles seizing.

Alice pled with him to stop hurting himself. Esme pled even harder, kneeling as close as possible without touching him. He ignored them both, completely in the grip of his monster and far past the edge of reason.

Kate didn't release him until Alice's relieved, hoarse shout that Bella was on her way back. Alice had been desperately trying to break through the blindness the wolves caused her, without a break, for the past two hours. Her purpose was to find _anything_ that might calm her brother. But the fact that she could see nothing of Bella for that long only compounded Edward's terror — and his determination.

"She's coming!" Alice sounded exhausted. " _Edward!_ I just caught a glimpse. She's nearly here! She's fine!"

Charlie's mind came into his range at almost the very same moment, as the man drove closer to the line on his way home.

But Charlie's wasn't the only mind that had just burst into Edward's awareness. There were wolves _everywhere_ , surrounding the car, more than he had realized existed — meaning even more had phased in the days since Jacob left the Cullen residence, when Edward last eavesdropped on Jacob tuning in to the collective pack mind. Some of the newest members of the pack were barely adolescents, phasing for the first time mere days before. That meant even _less_ self-control and yet more reason to keep Bella away.

Jacob wasn't among the ones guarding the car. He'd been ordered to stay behind, Edward saw in Sam's mind, to avoid hostilities. Jacob wasn't even in wolf form at all, which Edward knew because the boy's mind was the first one he sought, wanting details of what had occurred between him and Bella. The pack knew nothing about that. So Jacob hadn't phased since he was with Bella.

Edward broke free with an infuriated growl when Kate finally stopped the flow of power through him. He jumped to his feet — and soon learned something none of them had known, not even Kate, because there had never been cause for her to hurt someone for that long before.

Even for a vampire, there were apparently some after-effects to being continuously electrocuted for hours.

His muscles spasmed and jumped involuntarily, as though the current still ran through his body. His brain felt sluggish, a step behind. His manual dexterity, while still far superior to that of any human, was lessened considerably. He flexed and tensed his fingers over and over, trying to regain his control over them. They didn't respond the way they should, seizing and jerking.

He was weakened. _Compromised._ The fact that he was in severe need of a hunt likely didn't help.

Every single bit of that only enraged him all the more.

"Get away from me," he snarled to no one in particular once he was unsteadily on his feet, his voice ravaged. "I'll follow them home and get her myself."

He was pissed off with every single fiber of his being at every single one of his family. What if Bella had needed him, and they had still stopped him? What if she had been injured or even _killed_ while they held him back?

Even he didn't know what he might do.

But he could hear the sound of Charlie's cruiser now, steadily approaching the line. He reached out and found Charlie's mind, could see Bella in Charlie's peripheral vision — her head leaned against the passenger window, her eyes closed, looking exhausted but unscathed. Her chest was rising and falling smoothly.

Relief made him even weaker than Kate's torture.

Anger was right behind the relief. And though some of it was unquestionably toward Bella, the majority of his anger was self-directed. He should have known better than to leave her in her house, alone with her tortured thoughts, regardless of Charlie grounding her.

He'd _known_ Bella was dangerously close to the edge, even before she snapped at Charlie about the motorcycle. He'd seen her spinning farther and farther out of control with each passing day, full of anger and insecurity and God only knew what else. Jasper had subtly warned him about her instability too.

Bella could barely control her tongue anymore, snapping at the slightest provocation. She was on a hairpin trigger already, and he _knew_ that. He'd had his hands full at school recently, just trying to manage every stressor he could for her, to keep her from snapping at the wrong person and attracting unneeded scrutiny.

Was it really so surprising that something had set her off and led to such an extremely ill-advised and ill-timed decision, when he left her completely alone in her house in the midst of a doubly traumatic situation — himself leaving her for the first time since their reconciliation, and her crutch Jacob betraying her to her father?

She was clearly desperate for any kind of control over her own life, and yet more was taken from her by the day. Was it any wonder she went to such extraordinary lengths to grab hold of some by defying him?

She was 18 years old, for God's sake, and struggling with unspeakable trauma. Rebellion against authority of any kind was almost a statistical certainty. He'd all but ensured something like this by throwing orders around and then immediately leaving her to her own devices, with any loophole at all to get around those orders.

It wasn't a mistake he would make again.

His failure to see this coming disgusted him. He never should have allowed Jacob's and Charlie's actions to change his original plan, regardless of Charlie's wish to ground Bella. If he'd simply stuck to the plan and taken her to the Cullen house straight after school despite Charlie, and worried about the damn parental consequences later, Bella wouldn't have had the _chance_ to act out like this. She would have been under the watchful eye of his family, in a controlled situation, and this would have never happened.

Goddamnit, he could have fucking _lost_ her, all to keep Charlie Swan pacified. What the fuck had he been thinking?

She was his responsibility. Ultimately, as her mate, keeping her safe was his job and his alone. And he had managed to lose her again.

He slowly inhaled and exhaled, fighting the twitching and spasming of his muscles for control. Damn it, he didn't have time for this. Bella would be to the line in about a minute.

The temptation to jump in front of that car, snatch Bella out of it and take off with her was strong, to say the least. But he had paid quite a price already to keep Charlie Swan in the dark. He could restrain himself for a few more minutes, until his mate and her father arrived home and he could get her alone. Charlie was already looking forward to crashing into bed the moment he got home anyway, fighting to keep his eyes open. It was all the man could think about.

Edward didn't dare touch Bella yet anyway, not until he had his body fully under control and recovered from the effects of Kate's touch. Though the overall effect was a weakening one, aftershocks still rippled and spasmed through him like the occasional power surge, leading to reflexive muscle contractions of unpredictable strength. That could be catastrophic, if he had his hands on Bella when it happened.

So he forced himself to stand down and think. Leaving her home alone, even with his family right outside, clearly wasn't going to work. He needed a new plan... _another_ new plan.

"Esme, was the new bed delivered yet?" he requested through clenched teeth.

"It's already set up in your room," his mother assured him, concern for both him and Bella seeping out of every pore, infusing her every thought. "We had everything ready for her there, before Charlie called and canceled."

Edward took a measured breath, made a concerted effort to rein in his temper at that reminder of Jacob Black's treachery. Had the mutt not thrown a wrench into the plan by taking that godforsaken motorcycle to Charlie, Bella would be safely in Edward's old room at that very moment, having a sleepover with Alice and a comfortable place to sleep, further guarded by his mother and the Denalis. Her trip to La Push would have never happened.

He was at least going to make sure it didn't happen again, but the Cullen house was no longer an option for securing her. Charlie would go looking for her there first, just as soon as he woke up the next morning and found his grounded daughter gone without a trace.

"I need all of you to meet me at the cottage. Bring the bed down from the main house and put it in the living room," he instructed. "Not the bedroom. The _living_ room. I'll bring her there as quickly as I can get her there." He tried to keep the bite out of his tone, keep his words as cordial as possible, if only because he could see exactly how uneasy Esme was becoming with all of this already.

He didn't have time for another argument like the one he'd had with Rosalie that day at lunch, accusing him of taking things too far.

 _For the record_ , _I still think the bed's a bad idea,_ he heard in his mind from Alice. She was wise enough not to voice it, at the moment. He'd already had that argument at lunch too, when he first decided it was necessary to provide better sleeping arrangements if Bella was going back to the Cullen home overnight. Alice had warned him that Bella might or might not freak out about it.

Yes, he understood the potential for it to be a touchy topic. But he'd just be damned if Bella was getting dropped back into his bedroom without him, with nothing more than that ridiculous futon she'd slept on in the first horrible days after her attack. That could only bring back painful memories, and he wouldn't even be there to hold her if it was just all too much. Something new and more comfortable to sleep on _had_ to be better than that — a reminder that although he might not be there, he was still thinking of her, trying to take care of her.

And if he was finally getting to buy her something anyway, he was at least getting her something _nice —_ translation, lavish and expensive.

He could simply make it very plain that it was for sleeping only.

With his last few moments before Bella reached the boundary line, he concentrated on his evolving plan for how to deal with Victoria, how he was still going to pull off the kill with so many lost hours and no time to hunt or get into position — and he watched the possible outcomes in Alice's head.

"Edward, _no_ ," his sister breathed, horrified. "That's too risky. The timing would have to be perfect, and you barely have enough time now to make it. There are no guarantees. It's 50-50 at best."

"Victoria dies _tonight_ ," he spat, ignoring the way his knee nearly buckled beneath him with a sudden residual shock of electricity. "All of this changes nothing. Just be ready when I drop Bella off, and for the love of God, _keep_ her there this time." His head shot up, eyes going to the boundary. Charlie had picked up some speed. Bella was nearly to the line.

He didn't say another word to anybody. He left his family staring after him, trying to decide whether or not someone should follow him, as he began to stalk angrily toward the line. His legs still twitched and jumped beneath him as he got into place to intercept the car and run alongside it the rest of the way to Bella's house.

"1:42," Alice called after him. "If you leave her house one second later, you won't make it in time."

* * *

That deadline should have given him plenty of time. The Swans pulled into their driveway at precisely 1:18. He would have roughly 24 minutes alone with Bella to talk, to find out what was going on with her and what the hell she had been thinking, to convince her to defy Charlie by coming home with him, and then to help her pack.

But it was 1:39 by the time Bella finally quit stalling and entered her bedroom — three minutes before they needed to leave. And his remaining patience had long since worn thin.

He was standing at her window, staring down at the lock he'd had to break to get in. His still spasming fingers weren't quite up to anything resembling finesse, so he'd been reduced to shoving her window open with brute force, popping the lock in two. He stared at the two ruined pieces, trying to figure out just how bad it was going to be when he also had to break down her bathroom door, if his time ran out before she came to him voluntarily.

He didn't want to show her his growing anger...not when he knew how much Bella had been through, how much she was _still_ going through.

But nonetheless, he'd now had too much time alone to think. And he was _seething._

How could Bella, his _mate,_ have done something like this to him — openly defying him and sneaking off to spend time alone with another man, one harboring deep and decidedly sexual feelings for her, feelings that she damn well _knew_ about because Edward himself had informed her of them?

That alone would be enough to stoke his monster's possessive ire, but she had also thoroughly endangered her _life_ in the process. Of anything she could possibly ever do to infuriate him to this level, risking her life was at the top of that list. Nothing could drive _any_ vampire into a blind rage with his mate more quickly than that.

Then there was the matter of the risk she'd exposed _him_ to, _her_ mate, by forcing him to rush back for her alone, also endangering the family members he left behind and their chances for eliminating Victoria. Overall, that was a much lesser concern than his mate's safety, but still one that contributed to his wrath.

Surely she _must_ have known this was how he would react, rushing back to reclaim her? Was she truly that desperate to see Jacob Black that she didn't care what happened to her mate when he inevitably came looking for her?

Or was it possible that she had been subconsciously _trying_ to lure him back home, knowing he would surely come for her if she went missing? She had been worried about him going in the first place, and he _knew_ that.

How could he read every mind on the goddamn planet except the one he most wanted to know? It was utterly maddening. Not knowing her motivations was swiftly driving him to the brink of insanity. Until he knew where Bella's head was and _why_ she had done this, he wouldn't be able to settle.

And so his emotions, much like his imagination, were all over the place. Anger, hurt, fear, _desire_ , pain... He was drowning in all of it, as he stood at that window.

Those particularly intense feelings still took a backseat to the predominant emotion that held him in its grip, fueled by his innate possessiveness.

_Jealousy._

That one was eating him alive.

Ever since the night Bella finally told him everything Albert had done to her — the night Edward realized he didn't have to hide his true nature from his mate anymore, that she responded easily and almost _instinctively_ to his natural dominance as a male vampire — he'd been struggling to keep the darker side of his nature in check.

Specifically, his possessive instincts.

Yes, she was undeniably _his_ now, utterly and completely. He didn't shy away from that phrasing, nor did Bella seem to. He was just as much _hers_ , body and soul — if he had one. They had established that fact too: everything he was or ever would be, it all belonged to her.

But thus had begun his desperate attempts to find balance for the raging emotions that feeling of possession unleashed in him, a fierce struggle between the dual sides of his nature to keep from taking his possessive urges too far.

At school, he was slowly adjusting to their new normal, finding that balance he sought. He got plenty of practice there, whether he wanted it or not. But he was already getting better at suppressing his urges to dismember her many male admirers, just for their impure thoughts about her — even Mike Newton. That was progress by any definition.

But his newfound control and balance inevitably ended right where the topic of Jacob Black began. Unlike the rest of Bella's ridiculous would-be suitors, that one represented a viable threat. Bella _cared_ about him. How much she cared was still undetermined.

She cared enough to defy a direct instruction from her mate, obviously, and endanger her life. His teeth clenched together harder, a growl building low in his chest.

Despite his best efforts, there was still some feral part of him that just wanted to hide Bella away, keep her under lock and key, guard the door and growl _mine_ at any fucker that dared approach.

Usually, he had a pretty tight leash on that. But on this night, he'd already been in the grip of his monster for far too many hours, throughout the entirety of Bella's visit to La Push and while Kate tortured him, further dulling his ability to think straight. So locking Bella up somewhere didn't sound quite as unseemly as usual.

 _You will not touch_ _her_ , he sternly cautioned himself, directly addressing his monster within. _Not one single finger, not when you're like this._

He flexed his fingers against the windowsill experimentally. They still didn't completely respond to his brain's commands. His manual dexterity was still shot from the after-effects of Kate's touch — even more reason to keep his hands off Bella.

That might be easier than he thought. He wasn't even completely sure that he was welcome, at the moment. That goddamn locked window gave him pause, more so than any warning he could have given himself — or that his family could give him.

He'd done battle with Rosalie at lunch in the school cafeteria that very day, in fact, about what she deemed his "progressively controlling behavior". All because he asked her to help Esme and Alice guard Bella at the Cullen house, when they were all discussing strategy in the aftermath of Alice's vision.

His sister painted a very unflattering picture of Edward's intentions. Rosalie believed that his only reason for securing Bella in their family's house, rather than in her own home where she could be more comfortable, was to ensure that his no-contact orders regarding Jacob Black were followed.

Edward couldn't even claim ignorance about where Rose got that impression. Practically the first detail out of his mouth, after all, both to his sisters and the Denalis, was an explicit instruction to prevent any such contact while he was gone.

Rosalie had informed him, in a maddeningly superior tone, that she "refused to be party to victimizing that girl any further." She would either accompany him and Emmett to dispatch Victoria, or she would take a nice vacation at a five-star resort until they returned. But she sure as hell didn't intend to be at the Cullen house, keeping Bella under lock and key, for him or anybody else. She considered it false imprisonment, whether Bella went along willingly with his madness or not. And she found it extremely tasteless, considering what Bella had already been through.

Emmett, not surprisingly, took Rosalie's side — most likely because he valued his balls, although he made a few adamant points of his own. Edward was a little surprised to see that Jasper pretty vehemently agreed with their assessment of his mental state, although Jasper didn't verbalize those thoughts. He wouldn't align himself against Alice. And Alice was squarely on Edward's side, having had a belly-full of the Jacob/Bella situation while Edward was in Brazil. Anything that prevented any more of _that_ was just fine by her — up to and including kidnapping.

Edward accused Rosalie of being dramatic. He scoffed and snarled at her predictions that if he continued on his current path, he'd undermine his own mateship himself, without the dog having to lift a single finger.

It was absurd, to his mind. Bella knew how deep his devotion ran. She knew he wouldn't arbitrarily make demands of her without valid reasons.

So he hadn't given Rosalie's words a second thought since lunchtime.

But then he'd come up against a locked window to Bella's room when he tried to get in, and his sister's words slammed back into him with all the force of a freight train.

Someone had tried to lock him out of Bella's room. He hoped to God that that someone wasn't Bella, but he was starting to wonder.

She _had_ to know he was there at that very moment, that he would have come back for her the very second he knew she went missing. But she certainly didn't seem eager to encounter him.

On the contrary, she was actively _avoiding_ him, intentionally taking her time in the bathroom. And that hurt — and simultaneously scared the shit out of him.

Insecurity and fear continued seeping in alongside the jealous anger, as he stood there waiting for her to come to him. How long had she been planning this? Had she just been telling him what he wanted to hear, waiting until the first moment she was free of him to run back to Jacob Black? Was that why she'd defended the dog so passionately?

And more importantly, what the fuck had happened in La Push that night?

Could it have anything to do with the reason Bella didn't wish to see him?

The residual feeling of electric current shot through his hand again, without warning, and his fingers reflexively clenched — shattering the wood of the windowsill beneath it.

He hadn't meant to do that.

Stress, it seemed, only exacerbated that inconvenient side effect, shooting more electric impulses through his body. Uncontrollable ones.

 _Not one finger_ , he reminded his monster, as though they were wholly separate individuals. _Don't you fucking touch her, no matter what._

His stomach plunged with a feeling akin to freefall when Bella finally opened her door to enter her room. Would she demand that he leave? Because he _couldn't_. Not when he was the only one there to protect her at the moment, having sent his family away in a fit of rage, despite his weakened state, like the goddamn egomaniac Rose accused him of being.

Bella entered the room, and he still didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know _how_ to say it. He couldn't even decide whether he more wanted to yell at her for endangering herself, or demand to know what in God's name she had been thinking and what she was doing with Jacob Black for all those hours, or just crush her in his embrace and bask in heady relief that she was safe.

He didn't know if he'd rather fall at her feet and beg forgiveness for driving her to that point, or shove her up against her wall and try to saturate her in his scent, marking her everywhere he dared touch with his breath and his tongue, until Jacob Black or anybody else got the fucking point that she was _his._

He knew which of those options his monster favored. And that was enough to lock his muscles in place right where he stood. He _would not touch her,_ not when anger was amidst the deluge of emotions raging through him.

But the moment she was fully inside the room and he sensed her presence, though he didn't dare turn to look at her or even _breathe_ to keep from being overcome with her sweet scent, his internal conflict ceased raging.

He knew exactly what it was that he wanted:

Her, in his arms.

He wanted to hold her close, kiss every millimeter of her beloved face, and thank every deity he'd ever heard of that she had come back to him safely. Anger melted, but his body tensed, trembling with the desire to go to her, press his lips to hers and kiss her until his every fear dissipated.

He nearly did exactly that.

And then electric aftershocks rippled up his back, and he stayed put.

 _Don't touch her._ It wasn't his monster he was talking to anymore. _Don't you fucking touch her. Don't even look at her._

The sound of her voice was nearly his undoing.

 _Safe...safe...safe._ It was the only mantra running through his mind. Bella was safe. He had her, and he wouldn't lose her again.

But when her words registered to his still sluggish brain — _Alice, I know what you're going to say —_ he was stunned to realize she had been expecting _Alice_ all this time, rather than him.

He had been wrong. She _didn't_ know exactly how deep his devotion to her ran, or she would have never doubted he'd be the one standing in that room, waiting for her and slowly losing his mind about why she wouldn't just _come_ to him.

The remaining words they said to one another in greeting — his own sounding carefully restrained and hurt, hers defiant and defensive — were far less important than the subtext, the far more potent dialogue he heard in the charged atmosphere between them.

 _"What were you thinking? That's all I want to know."_ Why did you do this to me?

 _"Edward! What are you doing here?" _You came back for me?

 _"What do you think I'm doing here, Isabella?" _What do I have to do to make you understand? You're _everything_ to me...

_"I don't know. Overreacting?"_

Her sarcastic, biting dig took him off guard, flared his anger all over again. Overreacting? About her risking her _life?_

He did more damage to her ruined windowframe, digging his nails into it. He clenched his teeth and reminded himself that harsh words would only make an already explosive situation worse.

So he held his tongue, ground his teeth together and reminded himself of everything she'd ever suffered because of him.

But then everything changed. _Everything._

First, she made the mistake of moving close to him, so close he could feel her body heat.

That was dangerous enough. He contracted his muscles, willed himself to stay _still._

But he was wholly unprepared for what happened when he tentatively took a breath, bracing himself for the overpowering lure of his mate's scent, something he'd denied himself since she entered the room. It should soothe him now, despite the burn. Her blood no longer tempted his monster, ever since his return from Brazil. That blood was too precious to waste by consuming. The presence of it, pumping through Bella's veins, meant she was _alive_. Safe.

It was absolutely _crucial_ to his own existence, in fact.

But he didn't get the relief he expected with that inhalation. Instead, the scent of _dog_ hit him, so strong on her body that it overpowered even the scent of _Bella._

And that hit him hard.

The physical and mental torture he'd already endured was nothing compared to the moment he understood that Jacob Black had been all over his mate that night, pressed up against her, his arms around her...

His stench was all over her. It wafted from her hair, her skin, her clothes.

That was no incidental contact. Jacob had embraced her, at the very least — held her in his arms, wrapped completely around her. Tightly. His face had been buried in her hair, _breathing_ on her — and not for one quick moment, to transfer that much of his stink. It had been _extended_ contact.

Edward felt like he was slowly burning from the inside out. The _explosion_ of jealousy inside him nearly drove him to his knees.

He tried closing his eyes, shallowing out his breathing to diminish the effect of that godforsaken evidence of Bella's betrayal.

Nothing worked.

He felt on the verge of losing his mind. Everything in him told him to grab her, mark her, drag his tongue up her throat and every inch of exposed skin, breathe all over her, _claim_ her with his own scent.

That was an instinctive drive, a natural reaction to believing that one might have a rival for one's mate. If his mate was a vampire herself, she would not only expect but _welcome_ such a reaction — because she wouldn't _want_ the scent of another male on her body.

The primal urge was overpowering, but he couldn't succumb to it, for so many different reasons. Not least of those reasons was Bella's humanity. If she were a vampire, she would instinctively pick up on his desire to scent her. She would gladly submit, bare her neck to him, try to leave her scent on him too. It should be _enjoyable_ for her to be so claimed.

But his mate was human, and utterly furious with him. There was little chance she'd welcome such a thing or even understand what he was trying to do. He'd likely scare her half to death, especially given her still sometimes hesitant reactions to his touch since her attack.

She had attempted to lock him out of her _room_ , for God's sake. And he still didn't know why.

He clamped down on the blaze of _desire_ racing through him, forced his mind back to the matter at hand.

The tense conversation that followed was little more than a blur, as he briefly and tersely explained his purpose for being there: that she was coming home with him in exactly two minutes; that he was still going after Victoria the moment he got her there safely.

He was barely hanging on. He just needed to get her _outside_ that room, where the fresh air would diminish that damnable scent of _wolf_ on her that he so wanted — no, _needed_ — to erase.

His words were on autopilot; his sole focus was keeping control.

Then he noticed her eyes drop down to his side, taking in the way he still worked his fingers, subconsciously trying to regain his full use of them and regulate the residual current still flowing there. He saw the way she swallowed nervously, nearly a gulp.

And it didn't just take the edge off his mingled anger and desire. It completely deflated them.

He had frightened her, he inferred — caused her to believe he might actually put his hands on her in anger, maybe even hurt her, and that was _unforgivable._ He'd tear his own arms off first.

He was just about to break, to start begging her forgiveness, assuring her he would never hurt her, no matter _what_ she'd done.

But then a new scent on the air hit him. One he hadn't smelled since before he left for Brazil.

One that, in this particular context, he most certainly hadn't expected and did nothing to help his control problem.

Arousal.

Bella was _aroused._ Deeply.

And it certainly had nothing to do with Jacob Black, because he knew without a doubt that scent hadn't been there a few moments before.

She was aroused by _him_ , her mate. His anger. His jealousy. His desire to mark her. His burning passion.

She _did_ instinctively pick up on it, without even knowing why — just like she'd responded to his dominant tone before.

God help him. If she'd been looking to throw gasoline on the raging inferno inside him at that moment, she couldn't have found a better way.

Her light touch on his arm was very nearly his undoing. He bit off the predatory growl in his chest. She was still arguing with him, he distantly knew, but the words barely registered. The room was spinning, and he had no idea if it was an after effect of Kate or if it was just _her_ — his mate.

He tried to bark out a warning — " _Don't"_ — but she only slid her hand sensuously down his arm and backed away, as though beckoning him. The abrupt loss of her touch, despite the scorching flame it had sent licking through his entire body, left him helpless not to follow.

She turned to put her own back against the wall. Her head tipped back against it, her throat bared as she looked up at him, her eyes dark and hooded. That bared throat almost did him in. It said she _wanted_ him to give in to his instincts, even though he knew — _knew_ — that she couldn't possibly understand what her body was communicating to her vampire.

His hands reached for her face. An aftershock rippled through his fingers, reminding him why he didn't dare touch her, even now, despite the overpowering nectar of her arousal raking his senses. He redirected at the last moment, flattened his palms against the wall to either side of her head.

And the scent of wolf hit him all over again.

 _"Don't finish that sentence, Isabella,"_ he managed to grit out.

If she said another word right then, especially one of argument or defense of that goddamn dog, he was _lost._ He would be pressed up against her, his mouth at her throat, his tongue dragging up her flesh. He might not stop there.

And she would let him, he knew. The fresh flood of arousal he could smell between her legs when he caged her body in between his and the wall was enough to tell him that.

And that would be the worst possible mistake he could make right then, one minute before he intended to kidnap her and deliver her to his family to be held hostage, whether she wanted to go or not.

He focused on the calming feeling of having her right there between his arms, captive between his body and the unyielding wall, though there was no physical point of contact between them. She wasn't going anywhere. She would stay right there with him, safely within his reach. _Close_ to him, whether he dared touch her or not.

Nothing could hurt her when he had her like that, not without getting through him. That was the calming part.

Her aroused body in close proximity and under his control, on the other hand...

God, if she weren't human and breakable...or even if she weren't traumatized and he wasn't physically compromised...if he thought for even a moment that she was thinking the exact same thing he was thinking...

But how the fuck could they possibly be on the same page, his monster snarled in his head. He must be imagining the response he wished for, because she had let _another man_ touch her that night. A goddamn _wolf._ His possessive rage flared, and he bent his elbows, leaning in until he was nearly right against her.

 _"How am I supposed to know what you'll do if I leave you here again?" _he hissed. _"You knew exactly how I felt about you seeing him, and yet you sneaked off behind my back at the very first opportunity."_

Bella angrily pushed her chest into his as she tried to go nose-to-nose with him, the scent of her womanhood only growing stronger. He forced himself to back off just far enough to separate their torsos, when all he really wanted to do was push _forward_ and pin her body against that wall.

 _"I didn't do anything behind your back!"_ she yelled into his face, as angry as she was turned on. " _I told you I was still going to find a way to see my friend, and that's exactly what I did!"_

With God as his witness, this woman was going to be the goddamn _death_ of him. Because she was right. She _had_ told him that. And he had angrily shot back that he'd find a way to stop it.

Of the two of them, only Bella had kept her promise... up to that point, anyway. He was going to start keeping his, right fucking then.

 _"I nearly started a war tonight, Bella!"_ He watched her eyes as he angrily but helplessly poured out far more than he had ever meant to disclose to her about his night — trying to cross the border into La Push, Kate torturing him for hours, his utter panic until he knew Bella was safe. Perhaps he should have felt guilty for the pure horror that filled her eyes at his description of what he'd been through on her behalf. He did, to some degree. But some part of him was just overpoweringly relieved to know she actually gave a damn.

" _So I truly hope tonight was worth it for you,"_ he finished, sounding more bitter than he would really like as he reaffirmed his intentions to put a stop to her dalliances with Jacob Black. _"Because it won't ever happen again."_

She didn't even react to that final statement, his jealous dig about her time spent with Jacob. She was far more worried about _him_ , somewhat mollifying him. Her hands flew up and locked around his wrists. He tightened his muscles and pushed his hands harder against the wall, willed himself to keep them there. He felt the plaster begin to give way beneath his strength.

_"Edward...oh my God, you can't break the treaty! Not ever! What were you thinking?"_

His jaw tightened. She clearly knew more about the treaty than he'd ever shared. That was information that must have come from Jacob, that same night. What else had the mutt told her that she really didn't need to know about?

_"Aside from the fact that my mate could be hurt and I had to get to her? Nothing. I was running on pure instinct."_

God, did she really and truly _not_ know just how far he would go to keep her safe? Frustration welled up in him.

_"For God's sake, Bella, how many times do I have to explain it? You are my mate! You had been gone for hours. Alice couldn't see you. For all I knew, they were holding you there to keep you away from me. What was I supposed to do?"_

He felt instant remorse when he saw the guilt-stricken look on her face. The last of his anger fled, along with his jealous passion, and all there was was _her._

Her soft hands released his wrists, instantly went to his face. He half expected her to strike him. Instead, she cupped his cheeks softly.

Dear God, her gentle, loving touch...it never failed to turn him completely inside out. He nearly flinched away from the overwhelming pleasure of it.

He didn't deserve it, after what he'd nearly just done.

Instead, he closed his eyes, leaning into her hands, breathing her deep. Like the smell of fresh rain permeating the air of the forest, washing away the haze of musky decay on a swelteringly humid day, Bella's own sweet scent gently cleansed the stink of wolf — of _rival_ — from his lungs.

All he could see, smell, hear, feel, _taste_ was her. Nothing else existed.

 _"I'm sorry I scared you,"_ she whispered, and he knew she meant it. It nearly drove him to his knees. She still loved him. _"You weren't even supposed to find out about it until after I was back."_

That was possibly the most painful aspect of it all — her deception.

 _"You're safe now,"_ he whispered. He had a soul. He knew it, in that moment, because the woman before him, not quite in his arms but close enough, was the only one capable of destroying it. _"That's all that matters."_

" _Did it hurt?"_ she asked timidly. _"What Kate did to you, I mean."_

Maybe it was an aftershock to his brain. Maybe he was just _done_ holding back, desperately desiring complete intimacy with his mate. But for whatever reason, the unfiltered truth came pouring out.

_"Not nearly so much as what you did to me."_

He regretted it the moment it was out of his mouth.

Yes, she had hurt him.

But he had just hurt her back. Her reaction was physical. She slightly bent forward, on a hard exhale, as though he'd just struck her.

He stepped fully away from her, put his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what else to do with them. The compulsion to take her in his arms and beg forgiveness for his angry words was just too strong, at the moment.

They simply didn't have time. Not if he wanted to rip Victoria into shreds.

And that wasn't optional.

_"Thirty seconds left, Bella. If there's anything you want to take with you, get it now."_

* * *

It was a strange feeling, Bella mused, being in Edward's arms and feeling such a _distance_ between them as he ran her to their little cottage on the Cullen property — a trip he had not made optional.

He hadn't been lying about that 30-second deadline he gave her. The very moment her time was up, he picked her up and went out the window with her, without another word. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his shoulder as they fell. If not for the plunging sensation in her stomach and its abrupt cessation, she wouldn't have even known when she was falling or when they landed. He cradled her too securely, ensured that her body felt no impact.

He may have been so angry he barely wanted to speak to her at the moment, and he might be kidnapping her, but he was as gentle and careful with her as ever — maybe even more so.

He didn't try to put her on his back, either, once they were on the ground. He remained respectful to her aversion to that, an uneasiness she'd felt ever since Albert carried her away that way and then hurt her.

Edward had never once questioned her about her reasoning, but he _had_ continued to carry her bridal style ever since she last requested it of him, remaining painstakingly careful not to jostle her as he ran.

She was grateful. She didn't care to discuss it, but she just wasn't ready to go there again yet, riding on a vampire's back. It felt too open, too exposed, like Albert or Victoria could simply snatch her off his back and take her away with very little effort. She felt far more secure with Edward holding onto _her_ instead of the other way around, his arms snug around her, even if they _were_ both upset with each other at the moment.

And, quite honestly, she wasn't really comfortable wrapping her legs around Edward yet, even if it was only to be perched on his back. It wasn't like she still had any physical pain remaining from her attack; but she still tensed up at the very thought of _anything_ touching her between her legs, even non-sexually.

Just...not yet. Maybe one day.

Maybe one day soon, even. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about ways of working through her frustrating hangups.

It wasn't like she hadn't wondered if Edward would be willing to relax his boundaries and help her overcome them.

It wasn't like she hadn't blushed furiously and pushed that thought from her mind, certain she would _never_ find the guts to ask him such a thing.

Maybe she would, one day. But not yet.

She peeked up, trying not to be noticed, and watched his face as he ran. She tried to suppress thoughts of what it would be like to _let_ him touch her that way, because she just felt guilty thinking about that when he likely didn't even _want_ her that way anymore.

Especially now, after what she had done.

The brunt of his anger with her, at least, had visibly melted away while they were still in her room, the moment she tentatively stroked his face and told him how sorry she was for hurting him.

But now, he had become quiet and withdrawn. Though he surely sensed her perusal of him, he didn't so much as glance down at her as he ran, nor did he speak to her. Something was eating at him, and she could only assume he was still angry and hurt about her going to see Jacob behind his back, not to mention what he had been through because of it. What else could it be?

Left to her own thoughts, equally as quiet and subdued as Edward, Bella let the fresh air soothe the remainder of her own turbulent emotions. She felt some strange mixture of feelings: anger over being bossed around and kidnapped yet again; guilt for undeniably having forced Edward's hand and driving him to this, at least to some extent; and even some embarrassment over her body's traitorous reactions to her mate's tightly restrained fury with her in her room...reactions that it was highly unlikely had escaped his notice.

He had surely known exactly how aroused she was, when he caged her in against her wall, holding his weight off of her with those strong arms as he bent his elbows and leaned in a little closer to her...

For one brief moment, she'd thought he was about to crash his lips into hers, press her up against that wall, and fulfill a few of her most secret fantasies about him losing his grip on that steely control.

And that was a little mortifying. What must he have thought of her, reacting that way? Having his way with her was almost certainly the very last thing that had been on his mind. He was _furious_ with her, for God's sake. And she likely wouldn't have been able to carry through anyway.

He wasn't even touching her with his fingers as they ran, she noticed now — which, to be perfectly honest, she was a little hurt by. Was he really _that_ angry that he could barely stand to touch her? He had one wrist beneath her knees, the heel of his hand supporting her back, but he kept his fingers carefully flexed away from her.

Her heart sank. Had she done permanent damage to her relationship with Edward?

* * *

Despite her growing concerns that she may not be so easily forgiven as she hoped, she still shrunk a little deeper into Edward's embrace when they came into the clearing near the cottage and she saw the group of vampires waiting for them outside, every one of them staring at her.

The only two she recognized were Esme and Alice. Her jaw dropped open when she saw the rest of them. If Edward noticed the fact that she was having a miniature meltdown, he didn't react to it. He just set her on her feet on the walkway outside the little house and put a gentlemanly hand on the small of her back — standing a little farther away from her than usual, and still avoiding touching her with his fingers.

"Bella, allow me to introduce the rest of our family," he started the introductions formally. "This is Eleazar and Carmen, Kate, Tanya, and Irina." He turned his focus toward the Denalis. "I'd like you all to meet my mate, Bella Swan."

If one thing was abundantly clear, it was that she hadn't exactly made a great first impression. Not one of them seemed particularly impressed with her, and she didn't really need to ask why. They had come all the way from Alaska to guard her, only for her to impulsively take off to La Push.

There were a couple of polite hellos, several disapproving looks. Mostly, they all just stared, leaving her fidgeting. Their reservations likely had far less to do with her being human than with the events of the evening, so she couldn't even blame it on some type of bias against humans. She would have stressed out over that more, but she just couldn't stop staring right back at the three gorgeous blondes with golden eyes.

She held onto the fact that Edward had introduced the Denalis as " _our_ family" — his intonation clear that he meant his and _hers._ He wasn't so angry that he was planning to get rid of her, evidently. Although why he would ever have chosen her in the first place, when the blonde perfection triplets were standing five feet away and the one in the middle was looking him up and down like a tasty snack, she wasn't really sure.

The first thing she was going to learn to do when she was changed was growl. She was going to need it when _any_ female looked at Edward the way that one was.

"It's nice to meet you all," she managed, hating the fact that her voice was shaking. Edward definitely heard it. His hand at her back inched a little further around her, his fingers finally touching her for the first time that night when they curled around her waist in support. He inched just the tiniest bit closer to her, and her heart felt like it was going to explode. Despite whatever was going on between them, whether she had hurt him or not, he still had her back.

"Edward, it's time." That was Alice. "You're already going to be cutting it close. I still can't nail down exactly how it ends, doing it this way. This new plan is risky."

Bella instantly forgot all of the judgmental faces around her. She looked up at Edward, fear flooding her.

"Then don't go," she begged impulsively, turning her back on them all to face Edward and grip his shirt. He kept his hand lightly at her waist but didn't touch her in any other way. "Call it off. You didn't even get a chance to hunt yet."

She didn't hear the entire statement muttered behind her, nor could she tell who it came from. She did hear the words " _guess whose fault"_ pretty clearly, and she could extrapolate the rest. Edward's hand at her waist tightened. He looked over her head, in the direction of the three blondes.

"I don't want there to be any more of that," he said quietly but firmly. "She had no way of knowing what would happen tonight or what could have happened. She doesn't completely understand our world yet, but she _is_ my mate. I realize you are all only being loyal to me, but I won't tolerate it at Bella's expense."

Most of them nodded or looked down, accepting his words. The blonde in the middle, the one whose way of looking at Edward had immediately rubbed Bella the wrong way, gave a bitter snarl. So obviously, she was the one who said it. And she didn't much care for Edward taking Bella's side over hers, calling her down.

"I'm going to check the perimeter," she stated coldly. And with one last glare at Bella, she turned around and disappeared into the woods. Edward winced, probably at whatever thoughts he heard in the woman's mind, Bella assumed.

"I do need to go, love," he told Bella, turning his focus back to her like she was the only one there. "Carlisle suggested we continue into Seattle after we're done with Victoria, and I think it's a good idea. While the Denalis are here to help protect you, it's the perfect time to gather information on the rest of Victoria's army. It will be late tomorrow night before we return, at the earliest."

Bella really didn't want to burst into tears in front of a group of overtly hostile strangers. But she was about to anyway. She was trapped until _at least_ the next night, and not in friendly company. Out of the entire group of her vampire guards, the only one who _didn't_ look like she wanted to wring Bella's neck was Esme. Until Edward's words in Bella's defense, even Alice had been glaring at her with open hostility.

"They're not going to let me leave or call Charlie until you're back, are they?" It was a pointless question. She already knew the answer.

Edward sighed, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I hope you won't take it out on Alice and Esme. This was my decision and they're only going along with my wishes, albeit reluctantly. But no, Bella. They won't allow you to leave."

Esme stepped forward and put her hand on Bella's shoulder, kind as always. "I still don't believe anything like that will be necessary anyway. Come, dear. Let's get you inside so you can get some rest. It's very late, and you must be tired."

Edward tried to smile for Bella's sake when her eyes flew back to his face in a panic, but it was strained. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he declared, his words a promise.

He leaned forward, brushed his lips across her forehead, pulled back for one last look...

Then he hesitated, seemed to struggle with himself before making some decision. He dropped his voice low, though it wouldn't do much to keep anyone else from hearing. "Bella...about what happened tonight, in your room...I would never..."

" _Edward!"_ cried out an exasperated Alice. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed? If you're going, you have to leave _now_."

He sighed in frustration, briefly closing his eyes and nodding his head. When he looked at Bella again, his eyes were apologetic. "Whatever you may think of me right now, I _do_ love you, more than you can imagine. Please try to remember that."

And then he was gone, already out of sight before she could even begin to form a reply — or wonder what, exactly, he had been attempting to apologize for. Kidnapping her? Or something else entirely?

* * *

After Edward admonished the group on Bella's behalf, Alice started to at least make an effort. She stopped openly glaring. She even came up on Bella's other side as Esme walked her to the door and into the cottage, offered her a half-hearted smile.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Alice said, just before Esme opened the door. "I told him he shouldn't have done this."

Bella didn't have long to wonder what Alice was talking about. She figured it out two steps into the living room, when she froze in place, staring.

The couch had been pushed up against the far wall, along with the other furniture. Along the interior wall that adjoined the kitchen, there now stood a gigantic bed, black wrought iron, decked out with a beautiful gold bedspread and fluffy, soft-looking pillows.

"What's this?" she asked, despite the obviousness of the answer. If she sounded more than a little horrified, it was because she already knew the answer.

Edward had got her a big, expensive bed.

A _kidnap_ bed.

Alice was right. He really shouldn't have.

Did this mean he was _never_ letting her go back to Charlie's house? Was this a _permanent_ kidnapping? Would the entire Cullen family have to leave town now, taking her with them? She and Edward hadn't really covered a whole lot of details during their argument, when she'd been thinking with her dazzled libido instead of her brain. But now, she had some questions.

"It's for you," Alice told her like she was stupid, her earlier annoyance seeping back in. "To sleep on."

"You didn't think he'd let you sleep on the couch, did you?" Esme stepped in with a smile, trying to soothe the tension in the room. "He couldn't bear the thought of you spending another night on the futon, either. He's far too much of a gentleman for that."

Bella couldn't stop staring at it. "But how..."

"He bought it today, over the phone, while you were in gym," Alice explained, foreseeing her question. "He told you he had a lot of calls to make. This was one of them."

Alice was definitely still feeling defensive of her brother. Her tone was a bit snippy.

Esme again jumped in to clarify, far more civilly.

"Originally, we set it up in his room, up at the main house. That's where you were going to stay, before Charlie decided not to let you come over with Alice. Edward asked us to move it down here for you when he decided to bring you here. We set it up while he was gone to pick you up."

Picking her up. Interesting choice of words for kidnapping. She definitely hadn't had a choice in the matter. Edward would have brought her to this cottage tonight, whether she was willing or not.

Leaving still wasn't an option, either, even now that he was gone. Alice's body language was fairly easy to read. If she ran, Alice would probably take great pleasure in tackling her...if she didn't trip over her own two feet first.

Even if she made it past Alice, she'd then have to get through the Denalis, who _really_ didn't like her. Maybe she was spinning out of control a little bit, making some self-destructive and impulsive decisions, but she hadn't _completely_ lost her mind.

Again, she felt completely conflicted. She still wanted to be furious at Edward for forbidding her to see Jacob, for overreacting and rushing home the way he had, for trying to cross the Quileute border like a fool, and for being so pissed at her for something as simple as a brief visit to La Push, not to mention kidnapping her and employing his family as prison guards.

On the other hand, she couldn't miss the hurt in his eyes when she first came home, even in the midst of his fury. Whether or not she fully understood or even agreed with the reasons for it didn't matter. She had hurt him. Deeply.

 _Not nearly so much as what you did to me_ , he had said, when she asked if Kate's electric touch had been painful.

Guilt stabbed at her heart, threatened to override her righteous anger.

That bed, even if it _did_ upset her, was just him trying as hard as he could to ensure not only her safety during his absence, but her comfort as well.

He'd been willing to run straight into near certain death in La Push to find her, all because, whether rightly or wrongly, he truly believed her to be in danger from the wolves.

And even after all that, when he was so angry he could barely look at her, he'd still asked his family to bring the bed down to the cottage for her, so that she would at least be comfortable.

He'd also defended her to his family and extended family outside, despite the indefensibility, to their way of thinking, of what she had done. Maybe Edward was right that she didn't fully understand their world, but she could pick up enough from the looks on every single face outside that cottage, when she and Edward first arrived, to know that what she had done was tantamount to infidelity in their eyes.

Which meant Edward likely saw it that way too, she realized suddenly. Which would have explained that look on his face in her room, some painful mixture of love, hurt, and _fury_.

God, she'd worn Jacob's coat all night, as they walked on the beach. Could Edward smell Jacob on her, especially after that overtight, overly proprietary hug Jacob had ambushed her with, right before she left? Her heart sank.

Of course he could.

She needed to talk to Edward. She needed to talk to him _right then._

As Esme excused herself to the kitchen to make Bella some hot tea before bed, leaving her alone with Alice, Bella's eyes turned back toward the huge bed, her heart still thudding with panic over the thought that Edward might believe she had been unfaithful to him.

The bed was in the living room, not the bedroom. She had no doubt that was at Edward's instruction too, and that if she walked to the master bedroom at that moment, it would still be empty. He'd kept his promise not to put anything in there until _she_ chose.

How could he be so sweet and accommodating in some areas, and so rigid and _controlling_ in others?

She turned and looked right at Alice, with tears brimming in her eyes.

"How did he get it delivered so fast?" she asked, her voice small. It was just easier to focus on small, insignificant details. If she looked at the big picture at the moment, she'd fall apart. "You said he just ordered it today?"

Alice's eyes softened at that question, a tiny smile touching her lips.

"Once you're one of us, you'll find that there's very little that can't be made to happen for the right amount of money. And Edward would spend his last penny to make this as easy for you as he can."

Like a pendulum swinging in the opposite direction, guilt disappeared and rebellion pushed up in Bella again. Why was Alice so determined to defend him, instead of just answering a simple question? Bella was Alice's best friend, by Alice's own definition, and Bella was being held _captive_. Didn't Alice care at all about that? Call it what you will, but this beautiful little cottage she'd come to love and associate with safety and feeling loved was now nothing more than a gilded cage — and the bed right along with it.

She couldn't _leave_. She knew better than to even ask if she could call Charlie or anyone else...especially Jacob. And it was making her claustrophobic.

It was all a little too similar, all of a sudden, to that night she'd spent locked into Lacey's cabin with Albert. The feeling of being similarly trapped in another little cottage nearly took her breath away, to the point that she had to fight down the panic. She won that battle, but only by sniping at Alice.

"Make what easy for me?" she snapped, bristling. "Being a prisoner?"

Alice looked annoyed. "He really does just want the best for you, Bella."

"What _he_ thinks is best."

Alice sighed. "I wish you could see it. I wish you could see what he used to be like before he met you, how _different_ he is with you. Be patient with him. This is all new to him too. He's learning. He's not going to get it all right, but he's _trying._ At least give him a chance to explain it all to you when he cools down."

"Can _you_ explain it?" she retorted. "Because it looks like I have plenty of time and nowhere to be." Okay, that one was pushing it, and Bella knew it. Alice's face grew angry again.

"Would you stop? He just needs to know you're safe, even while he's gone. _Especially_ while he's gone. You disappearing when he wasn't here? If you really want to know, that was probably the cruelest thing you could have done to him. It's his deepest fear. And I know hurting him wasn't your intention. I _know_ that. But how can you not see that ever since he got you back, he's scared to let you out of his sight? He's completely terrified of something happening to you. That's really what this is all about. I promise you, if I thought his motivations were anything beyond that, I'd kick his ass _for_ you. We all would, probably even the Denalis...well, most of them."

Bella cringed at that reminder. None of the Alaskan vampires had followed them inside, opting to protect the cottage from outside. But she had the feeling they could all probably hear this conversation.

Focusing on them was still less painful than really considering Alice's words about the pain she'd caused Edward that night.

"I'm pretty sure they all hate me anyway," she whispered. And Alice rolled her eyes.

"Whispering won't help. You're going to have to get used to the idea there are no secrets in this family. That includes the Denalis, which is why I'm telling you this now, right in front of them. Nobody hates you. They don't understand what you did, but when they see how happy you make Edward, they'll accept you."

Bella licked her lips, debating whether now was the best time to ask the question burning her from the inside out, or if she should wait until after Edward was back and the Denalis went back to Alaska. But then, when would she ever get the chance to ask without _Edward_ hearing?

No secrets, Alice had said. So she decided to go for it. It wasn't like she could possibly make things _worse,_ at this point.

"The one who went to check the perimeter when we were outside..." she trailed off, and Alice nodded, with a tiny smile pulling at her lips, because for God's sake, it was _Alice_. She likely already knew where this conversation was going.

"You mean Tanya."

"She _really_ doesn't like me. And...and I got the impression that maybe..." And she lost her nerve right there. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore. But it was a little late already, because Alice could see the damn future and knew exactly what she wanted to know.

"The answer to your question is yes. She's expressed an interest in him in the past. A few times, actually."

Okay, so Bella had been wrong. She _could_ make it worse, at least for herself. It felt like the world had just tilted over and tried to dump her off. Edward, being the object of desire of that blonde _goddess_ outside — the thought was unbearable. She could barely breathe.

"Oh." She actually thought she might throw up all over Alice's stylish shoes. That ought to _really_ cement the Denalis' opinion of her. "I mean, who could blame him?" she stammered, reeling, willing herself not to cry. "She's completely gorgeous. Just like all of you are. But I mean, she's, like, really, really..."

"Oh, Bella, for the love of God!" Alice grabbed her by the shoulders, and for just a second, Bella thought she was going to shake her. "Do you hear yourself right now? Or did you at least hear _Edward_ out there? Because he made his priorities crystal clear, in case you weren't paying attention. I said _she_ expressed an interest in _him_. He didn't return it. He turned her down. Repeatedly, in fact. He's never expressed an interest in _anybody_ until the day he met you. He's been completely yours ever since, even before he realized it for himself. And he would never, _never_ give you reason to doubt that."

It was pure guilt that made Bella react the way she did. She knew that. Alice knew it. Probably even pretty, pretty Tanya out in the woods knew it and was gloating over it.

But halfway through, Bella's guilt-soaked, angry retort turned into something else entirely — something she hadn't even realized she harbored deep within.

"You don't think I doubted it when he _left_ me for seven months, without explanation, and not _one_ of you would tell me where he was?" she yelled back. "Not _one_ of you just told me the truth, and I _hated_ you for it! Or is your point that I'm the one giving _him_ reason to doubt my feelings, just because I went to visit my friend? My _friend_ , Alice. A real one, who's actually on my side! Jake saved my _life_ when Edward was gone, just by _being_ there for me!"

Alice hadn't seen that one coming. She stood there, stunned. "Bella..."

But it was all coming out now, and Bella couldn't stop it. She'd pushed down her emotions far too often and for far too long since her attack, living in the Cullen house and trying to be the perfect houseguest — while being _watched_ at every moment. And then she'd had to go home and pretend to be perfectly normal around Charlie, who had obviously not been so completely fooled by her performance as she believed. He'd _known_ something was wrong with her, he'd said earlier.

All those aggressive verbal outbursts she'd been having, the ones that had confused and frightened her, along with her irrational, impulsive decision-making?

Those were just pressure cracks in the dam.

Now the whole thing was in collapse, releasing the torrent of pain and anger inside.

"No!" she cut Alice off. "I _love_ Edward, and I love all of you, but that doesn't give _any_ of you the right to tell me what I can and can't do! If even _one_ of you had just treated me like an adult and told me the truth from the beginning, maybe we wouldn't be here now! Maybe I would just be _normal_ and not jump out of my skin every time somebody touches me, even Edward! _Especially_ Edward. Maybe I wouldn't have nightmares, and panic attacks, and...and fucking _flashbacks_ with his face in them, because maybe none of this would have ever happened to me at all!"

And there it was. All the venom she'd been keeping inside, festering until it nearly drove her out of her mind, was now spewing out of her at the top of her lungs, complete with vulgar language that would make Edward cringe. And maybe that was part of the _fucking_ point.

She hadn't even realized how much anger she'd been holding onto with _all_ of the Cullens. She certainly hadn't consciously realized she _blamed_ them for her attack, deep down.

And now it was out there for everyone to know exactly how she felt.

No secrets. Alice was right about that much. She had none left.

She had _nothing_ left. She couldn't even cry. She just stood there, waiting for the rest of her world to fall apart when they inevitably shunned her, abandoned her, disappeared out of her life all over again. Surely not even Edward would blame them. He'd be gone too.

But Esme reappeared in the room during Bella's tirade, her expression stricken, cradling a cup of steaming hot tea in her hands. She cut a stunned Alice off before she could reply, blurring over to Bella's side the moment she was finished.

"Alice, no more," Esme said, as stern as Bella had ever heard.

Bella felt like she was about to hyperventilate. What had she _done?_ She turned panicked eyes on Esme, her head shaking _no_ in denial.

"Esme, I'm...I didn't mean...I would _never..._ " She couldn't even get out a full sentence, one thought tripping over the next in her horror.

They would _all_ hate her now. How could she ever be part of this family, be part of Edward's life with them, after saying such horrible things?

But Esme put a hand on her shoulder, looked her right in the eyes.

"You never have to apologize to us for your feelings. Edward himself knows he bears part of the blame for what happened to you, as do Carlisle and I. _All_ of us failed you, in one way or another. I could have come to you during his absence, and I didn't, despite the fact that you've been my daughter since the moment I first saw you. I regret that every single day. You've said nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart."

While Bella reeled, Esme's focus turned toward Alice. "Now, unless Bella wishes to talk more about this tonight, you and I are going to leave her alone to get some rest. She's been through a lot, and it's late. I'm sure she's very tired. It might be for the best to discuss things after she's had some rest."

A few seconds before, she'd have likely pointed out that being _tired_ was the least of her problems, but she just couldn't bring herself to snipe at Esme. She just took the cup when Esme offered it, mumbling a thank you. Then she walked over to the couch beside the wall, grabbed the soft throw blanket draped across the back of it, and then made a beeline for that bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace and lowered herself to sit on it.

She didn't go within five feet of that gorgeous, imposing kidnap bed. She didn't even look at it. Her entire body was shaking.

Alice sighed, audibly. "So I take it you're sleeping on the floor, then." She sounded utterly dejected.

"No, I'm sleeping on the rug. It's soft."

Yes, Bella knew she sounded like a three-year-old. No, she didn't really care at the moment. She honestly just needed every single one of the Cullens out of her face for, like, five minutes so she could have a chance to pull herself together.

She hadn't been truly alone since the moment Albert took her, aside from showering and using the bathroom. And she needed to have a really, really good meltdown over _all_ the awful events of that day— hurting Charlie again, leading Jacob on, finding herself a vampire's prisoner _again,_ arguing with Alice, finding out that the absolutely gorgeous creature outside wanted to steal her mate. How could she _ever_ compete with _that?_

Even the completely confusing interlude with Edward earlier, in her bedroom, had left her shaken. She wasn't ready to further examine either of their behavior — his white-hot fury and aggressiveness, or her own primal, sexual reaction to it. She almost felt _ashamed_ , and she was probably going to cry about that too. Because even if she had succeeded in provoking Edward into starting something, she'd have likely freaked out before they could finish it.

But above all, she needed to cry about the fact that she had _hurt_ Edward. Because she knew she had, on the very night he was going out to face Victoria to defend her, and that was the worst part of it all.

"Couldn't you at least sleep on the couch?" Alice asked, a bit timidly now. "I mean, can't you _guess_ what he's going to say about this when he finds out? Or would you like me to just tell you?"

That was half of the damn point. So Bella just took a sip of the bland tea, willed herself to keep calm and not start screaming again. "Let me guess. He forbids it." Her voice was icy cold.

"Alice." Esme cautioned, a tone of warning in her voice. "Leave her alone." Bella didn't even look up from her cup to see what prompted that warning.

"Fine," Alice conceded primly. "But I'm at least going to build her a fire first. He's going to be mad enough that we let her sleep on the floor, without letting her freeze to death too."

It was probably Esme who dragged Alice out of the room after she was done building a roaring fire in the fireplace, one that Bella had to admit was soothing and warm. But it didn't really matter how it happened.

All she knew was that she was finally, _finally_ alone for a few blessed, peaceful minutes, and she could bury her face in her arms and cry herself to sleep at her heart's content.

They were huge, hot, cathartic tears. And they were draining the rage right out of her. The more she cried, the less angry she felt.

She didn't even worry about all of the vampires who could hear the entire thing — including the Denalis, who, if they had hated her before, must surely hate her all the more now.

But by the very definition of spinning out of control, she just couldn't _stop._

* * *

Four minutes. Edward was four minutes from the new interception point.

Four minutes until he would crash directly into a fleeing Victoria, being pushed in his direction by his family.

Victoria may not have been the one Edward wanted most — not by a long shot. Albert Rowe, the goddamn _rapist_ who'd molested and digitally violated Edward's mate, held that distinction.

But Victoria would be a nice start.

And that wouldn't be the end of it. No. She would give him the others. She would give him Riley and the shield, Thomas. She would give him her whole damn army.

She would give him _Albert_. Or he would make her wish she had.

He pushed his speed a little faster, a snarl breaking free. It was going to be close. He was barely going to make it in time to plant himself directly in Victoria's path as his family approached from the opposite direction, forcing her to slam headlong into him.

It wasn't the original plan. No, it was a hell of a lot riskier than that, as Alice had made sure to point out in his head — loudly and repeatedly.

The original plan had been to surround the location Alice saw Victoria passing through, and simply set upon her from all sides.

But that plan effectively went down the tubes the moment he started running back for Forks when Alice called.

Edward had been the key to that particular plan, and they all knew it. Even with their ambush, Victoria, with her uncanny skills for evasion, would break free. When that inevitably happened, _he_ was the only one who could anticipate her movements through her thoughts, and he was also the only one fast enough to actually catch her. His family could pursue and herd her down the path they wanted her to take, eventually managing to force her into a straightaway. But even then, it would be only Edward's speed that could overtake her and bring her down.

That was the exact sequence of events Alice had seen in the cafeteria, and it was solid.

Their chances weren't as good now. Alice made sure he understood that, too, that there were multiple outcomes to their new plan, not all of them positive. He was taking a risk doing it this way.

The new, revised plan was simple: after his detour to retrieve Bella, there was no possible way he could be at the original ambush location in time. But Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, and Rosalie were still going to meet Victoria there, making themselves known.

They were going to make sure that when she ran, she ran directly toward Forks — and toward Edward, who was on his way back alone.

So it was a backup plan at best, and a risky one at that. Especially when he had only hunted once since he returned from Brazil, where he had starved himself for months.

But if it went according to plan, she'd run headlong into him like a freight train, unable to turn back or to the side because of his family behind her.

She would have nowhere else to go.

It would work. It _had_ to, mostly because he desperately needed the chance to make things right with Bella. If this was a trap...if they had been set up, and the entire army of newborns was waiting somewhere for him in these woods, shielded so he couldn't hear them...

Then he couldn't bear the thought that Bella's last memory of him would be his fierce demeanor in her bedroom, his accusatory words, his kidnapping her and leaving her a captive to his family in her own little cottage.

That was not the way he wanted to die, with guilt on his conscience and his mate angry with him.

That was not the way he was _going_ to die.

* * *

Vampires don't black out. Or at least they shouldn't.

They don't have out-of-body experiences or memory lapses.

But when he caught Victoria's scent, rapidly coming closer, Edward went so deep that conscious thought wasn't a possibility. Everything slowed down. His vision tunneled in on what was directly before him.

He wouldn't even remember those last few moments between catching her scent and his headlong collision with Victoria. He only remembered ducking his head down just before impact, when he narrowly caught her intention to clothesline him.

She had nowhere else to go but straight into him — his family was making sure of that.

At the last possible moment, he ducked under her arm, driving his shoulder straight into her stomach.

They were both at full speed at the moment of impact. The sound of their collision would have been deafening to a human. But he barely noticed it. He was too focused.

Victoria was an escape artist. Despite how drastically she was outnumbered, she was still confident in her ability to evade them all and escape.

And he couldn't allow that.

He locked down his muscles, his feet grabbing for purchase as he braced them hard against the ground to keep from being the one pushed backward. He won that particular battle, grasping onto Victoria's shoulders to keep her from escaping as their feet slid across the ground in the same direction he had been traveling, leaving a deep, furrowed rut in the ground.

He twisted, managed to get his arms around her neck, to secure the grip he would need to remove her head from her shoulders.

He could take his time with Albert later. With Victoria, he was taking no chances. One question was all he had for her, and then he would finish it.

But his compromised fingers seized, his grip not locking as securely as it should.

And with one evasive maneuver, Victoria capitalized on that brief moment of weakness and twisted free of his grasp. She kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying before he regained control. Immediately, she launched herself into the nearest tree, landing back on a path that took her away from the rest of the Cullens as she ran a zig-zag pattern — headed in the direction of Canada.

Edward's family, who had been not far behind Victoria, dashed past him.

"Go back to plan A!" Jasper shouted as they passed, ignoring the burst of profanity streaming out of Edward's lips. "We'll keep her on the path! You run her down!"

Growling and snarling, his eyes pitch-black with murder, Edward took off after them.

He urged every ounce of speed he could from his unsteady legs. He could not give up. He _wouldn't_.

Emmett and Jasper were flanking Victoria, as close as they could stay to her. Rosalie and Carlisle widened their perimeter out, slightly ahead of the others, pressuring Victoria to keep going in roughly the same direction.

She made it farther than she should have. She made it farther than she _would_ have, if Edward had been at full capacity. They were close to Canada by the time the rugged terrain began to work to their advantage, funneling Victoria into an even more enclosed path, one that didn't allow the twists and turns she had relied on so far to maintain her distance.

They chased her into a dense stand of trees, finally, with only the narrowest path through it. Victoria was forced into a straightaway.

It was now or never.

Yelling at the top of his lungs as he pushed himself harder than he ever had before, Edward put everything he had into one last, final burst of speed.

He was gaining ground.

When he launched himself into the air, he knew it was his last chance. If he missed, if he had gauged the distance or velocity wrong in the slightest degree, Victoria would escape. He wouldn't be able to catch up to her again — not when he could barely feel his spasming legs; not when the more he used his muscles, the more they conducted the remains of Kate's power through his body, working to expel it.

He hit her square in the back, and they both went down, rolling and tumbling, grasping at each other, trying to gain the upper hand.

He saw it in her mind, the moment Victoria realized she was lost — before he even truly realized it himself.

He was going to win. His family had just caught up to them, surrounding them in an ever-tightening circle.

Not even Victoria could get away now.

She snarled and spat, kicking backward at him as he rose to his knees with his arms locked around her neck from behind, pulling her backward and off balance. He could see each struggle form in her mind before she made it, and he compensated with very little effort, moving with her.

It was over.

"Where is he?" Edward growled, laser-focused on the most minuscule detail he could pull from Victoria's mind. "Where is Albert Rowe hiding? Tell me and I'll make it quick."

Victoria lurched, but he held on. She blanked her mind, tried to keep from giving anything away.

But it was too late. At the moment of Edward's question, her first thought was of a location — a deserted shack, 15 miles outside Forks.

Edward chuckled, low and mirthlessly — a deadly sound of utter satisfaction, meant to let his enemy know she was beaten. "That's all I needed. Goodbye, Victoria."

"The girl's still going to die," the redhead snarled desperately, clawing at Edward's hands where they were clasped together around her throat, his left hand gripping his right wrist just below her ear. "It's already in motion. You can't stop it!"

He only secured his grip tighter, preparing to remove her head from her shoulders. The fury that flowed through him was stronger than any electric current that might impair him now.

"Watch me," he spat. And he began to squeeze.

Victoria whimpered, knowing death was imminent. "He was my mate!" she howled mournfully, as though the death of James could in any way justify hurting the sweet, innocent girl Edward loved with his entire being.

He grit his teeth, widened his stance and braced himself.

"And she's mine," he hissed in Victoria's ear.

And then, with one savage twist and pull of his arms, it was done.

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
